GIFT   OF 


I  Pajre  5-2 

"  'DON'T  YOU  KNOW  THAT  YOU  OUGHTN'T  TO  SAY  "NO'M" 
AND  "  YES'M"  ?'  " 


RAGGED     LA  DY- 


BY 


W.    D.    HOWELLS 
» •  * 

AUTHOR    OF    "  A    HAZARD    OF   NEW    FORTUNES " 
"  THE  LANDLORD  AT  LION'S  HEAD  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY   A.  I.  KELLER 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON 

HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 
1899 


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NEW   YORK    AND    LONDON  : 
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Copyright,  1899,  by  W.  D.  HOWKLLS. 


Ehctrotyped  by  J.  A.  Howtlh  &  Co.,  Jefferson,  Ohio. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


'  DON'T    YOU    KNOW    THAT    YOU    OUGHTN'T    TO 

SAY  "NO'M"  AND  "  YES'M  "  ?' "  ....  Frontispiece 
1  BOTH  ROADS  GO  TO  SOUTH  MIDDLEMOUNT'M  '  "  Facing  p.  4 
THE  MIDDLEMOUNT  COACH  LED  THE  PARADE  "  "  80 

THEY   SAID   THEY   WOULD    LIKE   TO   TALK   THE 

MATTER  OVER"   .....  4i         110 

'  SHE  TORE  THE  LETTER  IN  PIECES,  AND  THREW 

IT  ON  THE  FLOOR" "  156 

'BELSKY  GAVE  HER  A  STUPEFIED  GLARE 

THROUGH  HIS  SPECTACLES  " "  192 

'  'AND— AND— YOU  WOULD  GO  WITH  ME  ?' "  .  "  224 
1  '  HAVE  YOU  EVER  SEEN  ANYTHING  OF  MR. 

BELSKY  SINCE  YOU  LEFT  FLORENCE?'"  .  "  256 
'ONE  DAY  SHE  SAW  THE  VICE-CONSUL  FROM 

HER  BALCONY" "  302 

'' DO  YOU  PROMISE  ?'".  "  356 


161451 


BAGGED   LADY. 


I. 

IT  was  their  first  summer  at  Middlemount  and  the 
Landers  did  not  know  the  roads.  When  they  came 
to  a  place  where  they  had  a  choice  of  two,  she  said 
that  now  he  must  get  out  of  the  carry-all  and  ask  at 
the  house  standing  a  little  back  in  the  edge  of  the 
pine  woods,  which  road  they  ought  to  take  for  South 
Middlemount.  She  alleged  many  cases  in  which  they 
had  met  trouble  through  his  perverse  reluctance  to 
find  out  where  they  were  before  he  pushed  rashly  for 
ward  in  their  drives.  Whilst  she  urged  the  facts  she 
reached  forward  from  the  back  seat  where  she  sat,  and 
held  her  hand  upon  the  reins  to  prevent  his  starting 
the  horse,  which  was  impartially  cropping  first  the 
sweet  fern  on  one  side  and  then  the  blueberry  bushes 
on  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  wheel-track.  She 
declared  at  last  that  if  he  would  not  get  out  and  ask 
she  would  do  it  herself,  and  at  this  the  dry  little  man 
jerked  the  reins  in  spite  of  her,  and  the  horse  sud 
denly  pulled  the  carry-all  to  the  right,  and  seemed 
about  to  overset  it. 
A 


2  IIAGGED    LADY. 

"  Oh,  what  arc  you  doing,  Albe't  ? "  Mrs.  Lander 
lamented,  falling  helpless  against  the  back  of  her  seat. 
"  Haven't  I  always  told  you  to  speak  to  the  hoss 
fust  ?  " 

"  He  wouldn't  have  minded  my  speakin',"  said  her 
husband.  "  I'm  goin'  to  take  you  up  to  the  dooa  so 
that  you  can  ask  for  youaself  without  gettin'  out." 

This  was  so  well,  in  view  of  Mrs.  Lander's  age  and 
bulk,  and  the  hardship  she  must  have  undergone,  if 
she  had  tried  to  carry  out  her  threat,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  take  it  in  some  sort  as  a  favor ;  and  while 
the  vehicle  rose  and  sank  over  the  surface  left  rough, 
after  building,  in  front  of  the  house,  like  a  vessel  on 
a  chopping  sea,  she  was  silent  for  several  seconds. 

The  house  was  still  in  a  raw  state  of  unfinish, 
though  it  seemed  to  have  been  lived  in  for  a  year  at 
least.  The  earth  had  been  banked  up  at  the  founda 
tions  for  warmth  in  winter,  and  the  sheathing  of  the 
walls  had  been  splotched  with  irregular  spaces  of 
weather  boarding ;  there  was  a  good  roof  over  all,  but 
the  window-casings  had  been  merely  set  in  their  places 
and  the  trim  left  for  a  future  impulse  of  the  builder. 
A  block  of  wood  suggested  the  intention  of  steps  at 
the  front  door,  which  stood  hospitably  open,  but  re 
mained  unresponsive  for  some  time  after  the  Landers 
made  their  appeal  to  the  house  at  large  by  anxious 
noises  in  their  throats,  and  by  talking  loud  with  each 
other,  and  then  talking  low.  They  wondered  whether 
there  were  anybody  in  the  house;  and  decided  that 
there  must  be,  for  there  was  smoke  coming  out  of  the 
stove  pipe  piercing  the  roof  of  the  wing  at  the  rear. 


RAGGED    LADY.  3 

Mr.  Lander  brought  himself  under  censure  by  ventur 
ing,  without  his  wife's  authority,  to  lean  forward  and 
tap  on  the  door-frame  with  the  butt  of  his  whip.  At 
the  sound,  a  shrill  voice  called  instantly  from  the 
region  of  the  stove  pipe,  "  Clem  !  Clementina  ?  Go 
to  the  front  dooa !  TheVs  somebody  knockin'." 
The  sound  of  feet,  soft  and  quick,  made  itself  heard 
within,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  slim  maid,  too  large 
for  a  little  girl,  too  childlike  for  a  young  girl,  stood 
in  the  open  doorway,  looking  down  on  the  elderly 
people  in  the  buggy,  with  a  face  as  glad  as  a  flower's. 
She  had  blue  eyes,  and  a  smiling  mouth,  a  straight 
nose,  and  a  pretty  chin  whose  firm  jut  accented  a  cer 
tain  wistfulness  of  her  lips.  She  had  hair  of  a  dull, 
dark  yellow,  which  sent  out  from  its  thick  mass  light 
prongs,  or  tendrils,  curving  inward  again  till  they 
delicately  touched  it.  Her  tanned  face  was  not  very 
different  in  color  from  her  hair,  and  neither  were  ner 
bare  feet,  which  showed  well  above  her  ankles  in  the 
calico  skirt  she  wore.  At  sight  of  the  elders  in  the 
buggy  she  involuntarily  stooped  a  little  to  lengthen 
her  skirt  in  effect,  and  at  the  same  time  she  pulled  it 
together  sidewise,  to  close  a  tear  in  it,  but  she  lost  in 
her  anxiety  no  ray  of  the  joy  which  the  mere  presence 
of  the  strangers  seemed  to  give  her,  and  she  kept 
smiling  sunnily  upon  them  while  she  waited  for  them 
to  speak. 

"  Oh  !  "  Mrs.  Lander  began  with  involuntary  apol 
ogy  in  her  tone,  "  we  just  wished  to  know  which  of 
these  roads  went  to  South  Middlemount.  We've  come 
from  the  hotel,  and  we  wa'n't  quite  ce'tain." 


4  KAGGED    LADY. 

The  girl  laughed  as  she  said,  "  Both  roads  go  to 
South  Middlemount'm ;  they  join  together  again  just 
a  little  piece  farther  on." 

The  girl  and  the  woman  in  their  parlance  replaced 
the  letter  r  by  vowel  sounds  almost  too  obscure  to  be 
represented,  except  where  it  came  last  in  a  word  be 
fore  a  word  beginning  with  a  vowel;  there  it  was 
annexed  to  the  vowel  by  a  strong  liaison,  according  to 
the  custom  universal  in  rural  New  England. 

"  Oh,  do  they  ? "  said  Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Yes'm,"  answered  the  girl.  "  It's  a  kind  of  tu'n- 
out  in  the  wintatime ;  or  I  guess  that's  what  made  it 
in  the  beginning ;  sometimes  folks  take  one  hand  side 
and  sometimes  the  other,  and  that  keeps  them  sepa 
rate  ;  but  they're  really  the  same  road,  'm." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  and  she  pushed 
her  husband  to  make  him  say  something,  too,  but  he 
remained  silently  intent  upon  the  child's  prettiness, 
which  her  blue  eyes  seemed  to  illumine  with  a  light 
of  their  own.  She  had  got  hold  of  the  door,  now, 
and  was  using  it  as  if  it  was  a  piece  of  drapery,  to 
hide  not  only  the  tear  in  her  gown,  but  somehow  both 
Ijer  bare  feet.  She  leaned  out  beyond  the  edge  of  it ; 
and  then,  at  moments  she  vanished  altogether  behind 
it. 

Since  Mr.  Lander  would  not  speak,  and  made  no 
sign  of  starting  up  his  horse,  Mrs.  Lander  added,  "  I 
presume  you  must  be  used  to  havin'  people  ask  about 
the  road,  if  it's  so  puzzlin'." 

"  O,  yes'm,"  returned  the  girl,  gladly.  "  Almost 
every  day,  in  the  summatime." 


RAGGED    LADY.  5 

"  You  have  got  a  pretty  place  for  a  home,  he'e," 
said  Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Well,  it  will  be  when  it's  finished  up."  Without 
leaning  forward  inconveniently  Mrs.  Lander  could  see 
that  the  partitions  of  the  house  within  were  lathed, 
but  not  plastered,  and  the  girl  looked  round  as  if  to 
realize  its  condition  and  added,  u  It  isn't  quite  finished 
inside." 

"  We  wouldn't  have  troubled  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lan 
der,  "  if  we  had  seen  anybody  to  inquire  of." 

"  Yes'm,"  said  the  girl.      "  It  a'n't  any  trouble." 

"  There  are  not  many  otha  houses  about,  very  nea', 
but  I  don't  suppose  you  get  lonesome ;  young  folks 
are  plenty  of  company  for  themselves,  and  if  you've 
got  any  brothas  and  sistas  " — 

"  Oh,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  tender  laugh,  "  I've  got 
eva  so  many  of  them  !  " 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  bushes  about  the  carriage, 
and  Mrs.  Lander  was  aware  for  an  instant  of  children's 
faces  looking  through  the  leaves  at  her  and  then  flash 
ing  out  of  sight,  with  gay  cries  at  being  seen.  A  boy, 
older  than  the  rest,  came  round  in  front  of  the  horse 
and  passed  out  of  sight  at  the  corner  of  the  house. 

Lander  now  leaned  back  and  looked  over  his  shoul 
der  at  his  wife  as  if  he  might  hopefully  suppose  she 
had  come  to  the  end  of  her  questions,  but  she  gave 
no  sign  of  encouraging  him  to  start  on  their  way  again. 

"  That  your  brotha,  too  ?  "  she  asked  the  girl. 

"  Yes'm.  He's  the  oldest  of  the  boys  ;  he's  next 
to  me." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said   Mrs.   Lander  thoughtfully t 


6  BAGGED    LADY. 

"as  I  noticed  how  many  boys  there  were,  or  how 
many  girls." 

"  I've  got  two  sistas,  and  three  brothas,  'm,"  said 
the  girl,  always  smiling  sweetly.  She  now  emerged 
from  the  shelter  of  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Lander  per 
ceived  that  the  slight  movements  of  such  parts  of  her 
person  as  had  been  evident  beyond  its  edge  were  the 
effects  of  some  endeavor  at  greater  presentableness. 
She  had  contrived  to  get  about  her  an  overskirt  which 
covered  the  rent  in  her  frock,  and  she  had  got  a  pair 
of  shoes  on  her  feet.  Stockings  were  still  wanting, 
but  by  a  mutual  concession  of  her  shoe-tops  and  the 
border  of  her  skirt,  they  were  almost  eliminated  from 
the  problem.  This  happened  altogether  when  the 
girl  sat  down  on  the  threshold,  and  got  herself  into 
such  foreshortening  that  the  eye  of  Mrs.  Lander  in 
looking  down  upon  her  could  not  detect  their  absence. 
Her  little  head  then  showed  in  the  dark  of  the  door 
way  like  a  painted  head  against  its  background. 

"  You  haven't  been  livin'  here  a  great  while,  by  the 
looks,"  said  Mrs.  Lander.  "It  don't  seem  to  be 
clea'ed  off  very  much." 

"  We've  got  quite  a  ga'den -patch  back  of  the 
house,"  replied  the  girl,  "  and  we  should  have  had 
moa,  but  fatha  wasn't  very  well,  this  spring;  he's  eva 
so  much  better  than  when  we  fust  came  he'e." 

"  It  has  the  name  of  being  a  very  healthy  locality," 
said  Mrs.  Lander,  somewhat  discontentedly,  "  though 
I  can't  see  as  it's  done  me  so  very  much  good,  yit. 
Both  your  payrints  livin'  ?  " 

"Yes'm.      Oh,  yes,  indeed!" 


RAGGED    LADY.  7 

"And  your  mother,  is  she  real  rugged?  She  need 
to  be,  with  such  a  flock  of  little  ones  !" 

"  Yes,  motha's  always  well.  Fatha  was  just  run 
down,  the  doctas  said,  and  ought  to  keep  more  in  the 
open  ala.  That's  what  he's  done  since  he  came  he'e. 
He  helped  a  great  deal  on  the  house  and  he  planned 
it  all  out  himself." 

"  Is  he  a  ca'penta  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Lander. 

"  No'in ;  but  he's —  I  don't  know  how  to  express 
it — he  likes  to  do  every  kind  of  thing." 

"  But  he's  got  some  business,  ha'n't  he  ? "  A  shad 
ow  of  severity  crept  over  Mrs.  Lander's  tone,  in  pro 
visional  reprehension  of  possible  shiftlessness. 

" Yes'm.  He  was  a  machinist  at  the  Mills ;  that's 
what  the  doctas  thought  didn't  agree  with  him.  He 
bought  a  piece  of  land  he'e,  so  as  to  be  in  the  pine 
woods,  and  then  we  built  this  house." 

"  When  did  you  say  you  came  ? " 

"  Two  yea's  ago,  this  summa." 

"  Well !  What  did  you  do  befoa  you  built  this 
house  ? " 

"  We  camped  the  first  summa." 

"  You  camped  ?     In  a  tent  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  pahtly  a  tent,  and  pahtly  bahk." 

"  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  died." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  Oh,  no,  we  all  kept  fust-rate. 
We  slept  in  the  tents — we  had  two — and  we  cooked 
in  the  shanty."  She  smiled  at  the  notion  in  adding, 
"  At  fust  the  neighbas  thought  we  we'e  Gipsies ;  and 
the  summa  folks  thought  we  were  Indians,  and  wanted 
to  get  baskets  of  us." 


8  RAGGED    LADY. 

Mrs.  Lander  did  not  know  what  to  think,  and  she 
asked,  "  But  didn't  it  almost  perish  you.  stayin' 
through  the  winter  in  an  unfinished  house  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  pretty  cold.  But  it  was  so  dry,  the 
aia  was,  and  the  woods  kept  the  wind  off  nicely." 

The  same  shrill  voice  in  the  region  of  the  stovepipe 
which  had  sent  the  girl  to  the  Landers  now  called  her 
from  them.  "  Clem  !  Come  here  a  minute  !  " 

The  girl  said  to  Mrs.  Lander,  politely,  "  You'll  have 
to  excuse  me,  now'm.  I've  got  to  go  to  motha." 

"  So  do ! "  said  Mrs.  Lander,  and  she  was  so  taken 
by  the  girl's  art  and  grace  in  getting  to  her  feet  and 
fading  into  -the  background  of  the  hallway  without 
visibly  casting  any  detail  of  her  raiment,  that  she  was 
not  aware  of  her  husband's  starting  up  the  horse  in 
time  to  stop  him.  They  were  fairly  under  way 
again,  when  she  lamented,  "What  you  doin',  Albc't? 
Whe'e  you  goin'  ?  " 

"  I'm  goin'  to  South  Middlemount.  Didn't  you 
want  to  ?  " 

"Well,  of  all  the  men!  Drivin'  right  off  without 
waitin'  to  say  thankye  to  the  child,  or  take  leave,  or 
anything ! " 

"  Seemed  to  me  as  if  she  took  leave." 

"  But  she  was  comin'  back !  And  I  wanted  to 
ask—" 

"/  guess  you  asked  enough  for  one  while.  Ask 
the  rest  to-morra." 

Mrs.  Lander  was  a  woman  who  could  often  be 
thrown  aside  from  an  immediate  purpose,  by  the 
suggestion  of  some  remoter  end,  which  had  already, 


RAGGED    LADY.  9 

perhaps,  intimated  itself  to  her.  She  said,  "  That's 
true,"  but  by  the  time  her  husband  had  driven  down 
one  of  the  roads  beyond  the  woods  into  open  country, 
she  was  a  quiver  of  intolerable  curiosity.  "  Well,  all 
I've  got  to  say  is  that  /  sha'n't  rest  till  I  know  all 
about  'em." 

"  Find  out  when  we  get  back  to  the  hotel,  I  guess," 
said  her  husband. 

"  No,  I  can't  wait  till  I  get  back  to  the  hotel.  I 
want  to  know  now.  I  want  you  should  stop  at  the 
very  fust  house  we  come  to.  Dea' !  The'e  don't  seem 
to  be  any  houses,  any  moa."  She  peered  out  around 
the  side  of  the  carry-all  and  scrutinized  the  landscape. 
"  Hold  on  !  No,  yes  it  is,  too  !  Whoa  !  Whoa  ! 
The'e's  a  man  in  that  hay -field,  now  !  " 

She  laid  hold  of  the  reins  and  pulled  the  horse  to 
a  stand.  Mr.  Lander  looked  round  over  his  shoulder 
at  her.  "  Hadn't  you  betta  wait  till  you  get  within 
half  a  mile  of  the  man  ? " 

"  Well,  I  want  you  should  stop  when  you  do  git  to 
him.  Will  you  ?  I.  want  to  speak  to  him,  and  ask 
him  all  about  those  folks." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  let  me  have  much  of  a 
chance,"  said  her  husband.  When  he  came  within 
easy  hail  of  the  man  in  the  hay-field,  he  pulled  up 
beside  the  meadow-wall,  where  the  horse  began  to 
nibble  the  blackberry  vines  that  overran  it. 

Mrs.  Lander  beckoned  and  called  to  the  man,  who 
had  stopped  pitching  hay  and  now  stood  leaning  on 
the  handle  of  his  fork.  At  the  signs  and  sounds  she 
made,  he  came  actively  forward  to  the  road,  bringing 


10  RAGGED    LADY. 

his  fork  with  him.  When  he  arrived  within  easy  con 
versational  distance,  he  planted  the  tines  in  the  ground 
and  braced  himself  at  an  opposite  incline  from  the 
long  smooth  handle,  and  waited  for  Mrs.  Lander  to 
begin. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  us  who  those  folks  ah',  livin' 
back  there  in  the  edge  of  the  woods,  in  that  new  un 
finished  house  ? " 

The  man  released  his  fork  with  one  hand  to  stoop 
for  a  head  of  timothy  that  had  escaped  the  scythe, 
and  he  put  the  stem  of  it  between  his  teeth,  where  it 
moved  up  and  down,  and  whipped  fantastically  about 
as  he  talked,  before  he  answerd,  "You  mean  the 
Claxons?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  thei'  name  is."  Mrs.  Lander 
repeated  exactly  what  she  had  said. 

The  farmer  said,  "Long,  red-headed  man,  kind  of 
sickly-lookin'  ? " 

"  We  didn't  sec  the  man  " — 

"  Little  woman,  skiimy-lookin' ;  pootty  tonguey  ?  " 

"  We  didn't  see  her,  eitha ;  but  I  guess  we  hca'd 
her  at  the  back  of  the  house." 

"  Lot  o'  children,  about  as  big  as  pa'tridges,  runnin' 
round  in  the  bushes  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  And  a  very  pretty-appearing  girl ;  about 
thi'teen  or  fou'teen,  I  should  think." 

The  farmer  pulled  his  fork  out  of  the  ground,  and 
planted  it  with  his  person  at  new  slopes  in  the  figure 
of  a  letter  A,  rather  more  upright  than  before.  "  Yes ; 
it's  them,"  he  said.  "  Ha'n't  been  in  the  neighba- 
hood  a  great  while,  eitha.  Up  from  down  Po'tland 


IIAGGED    LADY.  11 

way,  some'res,  I  guess.  Built  that  house  last  summer, 
as  far  as  it's  got,  but  I  don't  believe  it's  goin'  to  git 
much  fa'tha." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matta?"  demanded  Mrs.  Lander 
in  an  anguish  of  interest. 

The  man  in  the  hay-field  seemed  to  think  it  more 
dignified  to  include  Lander  in  this  inquiry,  and  he 
said  with  a  glimmer  of  the  eye  for  him,  "  Hea'd  of 
do-nothin'  folks?" 

"  Seen  'em,  too,"  answered  Lander,  comprehen 
sively. 

"  Well,  that  a'n't  Claxon's  complaint  exactly.  He 
a'n't  a  do-nothin' ;  he's  a  do-everything.  I  guess  it's 
about  as  bad."  Lander  glimmered  back  at  the  man, 
but  did  not  speak. 

"  Kind  of  a  machinist  down  at  the  Mills,  where  he 
come  from,"  the  farmer  began  again,  and  Mrs.  Lander, 
eager  not  to  be  left  out  of  the  affair  for  a  moment, 
interrupted : 

"  Yes,  yes  !     That's  what  the  gul  said." 

"  But  he  don't  seem  to  think't  the  i'on  agreed 
with  him,  and  now  he's  goin'  in  for  wood.  Well,  he 
did  have  a  kind  of  a  foot-powa  tu'nin'  lathe,  and 
tu'ned  all  so'ts  o'  things ;  cups,  and  bowls,  and  u'ns 
for  fence-posts,  and  vases,  and  sleeve-buttons  and 
little  knick-knacks ;  but  the  place  bu'nt  down,  here,  a 
while  back,  and  he's  been  huntin'  round  for  wood,  the 
whole  winta  long,  to  make  canes  out  of  for  the  sum- 
ma-folks.  Seems  to  think  that  the  smell  o'  the  wood, 
whether  it's  green  or  it's  dry,  is  goin'  to  cure  him,  and 
he  can't  git  too  much  of  it." 


12  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Well,  I  believe  it's  so,  Albe't  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lan 
der,  as  if  her  husband  had  disputed  the  theory  with 
his  taciturn  back.  He  made  no  other  sign  of  contro 
versy,  and  the  man  in  the  hay-field  went  on. 

"  I  hea'  he's  goin'  to  put  up  a  wind  mill,  back  in 
an  open  place  he's  got,  and  use  the  powa  for  tu'nin', 
if  he  eva  gits  it  up.  But  he  don't  seem  to  be  in  any 
great  of  a  hurry,  and  they  scrape  along  somehow. 
Wife  takes  in  sewin'  and  the  girl  wo'ked  at  the  Mid- 
dlemount  House  last  season.  Whole  fam'ly's  got  to 
tu'n  in  and  help  s'po't  a  man  that  can  do  everything." 

The  farmer  appealed  with  another  humorous  cast  of 
his  eye  to  Lander;  but  the  old  man  tacitly  refused  to 
take  any  further  part  in  the  talk,  which  began  to 
flourish  apace,  in  question  and  answer,  between  his 
wife  and  the  man  in  the  hay-field.  It  seemed  that  the 
children  had  all  inherited  the  father's  smartness.  The 
oldest  boy  could  beat  the  nation  at  figures,  and  one 
of  the  young  ones  could  draw  anything  you  had  a 
mind  to.  They  were  all  clear  up  in  their  classes  at 
school,  and  yet  you  might  say  they  almost  ran  wild, 
between  times.  The  oldest  girl  was  a  pretty-behaved 
little  thing,  but  the  man  in  the  hay-field  guessed  there 
was  not  very  much  to  her,  compared  with  some  of  the 
boys.  Any  rate,  she  had  not  the  name  of  being  so 
smart  at  school.  Good  little  thing,  too,  and  kind  of 
mothered  the  young  ones. 

Mrs.  Lander,  when  she  had  wrung  the  last  drop  of 
information  out  of  him,  let  him  crawl  back  to  his 
work,  mentally  flaccid,  and  let  her  husband  drive  on, 
but  under  a  fire  of  conjecture  and  asseveration  that 


BAGGED    LADY.  13 

was  scarcely  intermitted  till  they  reached  their  hotel. 

That  night  she  talked  a  long  time  about  their  after 
noon's  adventure  before  she  allowed  him  to  go  to 
sleep.  She  said  she  must  certainly  see  the  child 
again ;  that  they  must  drive  down  there  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  ask  her  all  about  herself. 

"  Albe't,"  she  concluded,  "  I  wish  we  had  her  to 
live  with  us.  Yes,  I  do  !  I  wonder  if  we  could  get 
her  to.  You  know  I  always  did  want  to  adopt  a 
baby." 

"  You  neva  said  so,"  Mr.  Lander  opened  his  mouth 
almost  for  the  first  time,  since  the  talk  began. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  like  it,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Well,  she  a'n't  a  baby.  I  guess  you'd  find  you 
had  your  hands  full,  takin'  a  half-grown  gul  like  that 
to  bring  up." 

"  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  any,"  the  wife  declared. 
"  She  has  just  twined  herself  round  my  hea't.  I  can't 
get  her  pretty  looks  out  of  my  eyes.  I  know  she's 
good." 

"  We'll  see  how  you  feel  about  it  in  the  monning." 

The  old  man  began  to  wind  his  watch,  and  his  wife 
seemed  to  take  this  for  a  sign  that  the  incident  was 
closed,  for  the  present  at  least.  He  seldom  talked, 
but  there  came  times  when  he  would  not  even  listen. 
One  of  these  was  the  time  after  he  had  wound  his 
watch.  A  minute  later  he  had  undressed,  with  an 
agility  incredible  of  his  years,  and  was  in  bed,  as 
effectively  blind  and  deaf  to  his  wife's  appeals  as  if 
he  were  already  asleep. 


II. 

WHEN  Albert  Gallatin  Lander  (he  was  named  for 
an  early  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  as  a  tribute  to  the 
statesman's  financial  policy)  went  out  of  business,  his 
wife  began  to  go  out  of  health ;  and  it  became  the 
most  serious  affair  of  his  declining  years  to  provide 
for  her  invalid  fancies.  He  would  have  liked  to  buy 
a  place  in  the  Boston  suburbs  (he  preferred  one  of 
the  Nevvtons)  where  they  could  both  have  had  some 
thing  to  do,  she  inside  of  the  house,  and  he  outside ; 
but  she  declared  that  what  they  both  needed  was  a 
good  long  rest,  with  freedom  from  care  and  trouble  of 
every  kind.  She  broke  up  their  establishment  in 
Boston,  and  stored  their  furniture,  and  she  would 
have  made  him  sell  the  simple  old  house  in  which 
they  had  always  lived,  on  an  unfashionable  up-and- 
down-hill  street  of  the  West  End,  if  he  had  not  taken 
one  of  his  stubborn  stands,  and  let  it  for  a  term  of 
years  without  consulting  her.  But  she  had  her  way 
about  their  own  movements,  and  they  began  that  life 
of  hotels,  which  they  had  now  lived  so  long  that  she 
believed  any  other  impossible.  Its  luxury  and  idle 
ness  had  told  upon  each  of  them  with  diverse  effect. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 
RAGGED    LADY. 


They  had  both  entered  upon  it  in  much  the  same  cor 
poral  figure,  but  she  had  constantly  grown  in  flesh, 
while  he  had  dwindled  away  until  he  was  not  much 
more  than  half  the  weight  of  his  prime.  Their  diges 
tion  was  alike  impaired  by  their  joint  life,  but  as  they 
took  the  same  medicines  Mrs.  Lander  was  baffled  to 
account  for  the  varying  result.  She  was  sure  that  all 
the  anxiety  came  upon  her,  and  that  logically  she  was 
the  one  who  ought  to  have  wasted  away.  But  she 
had  before  her  the  spectacle  of  a  husband  who,  while 
he  gave  his  entire  attention  to  her  health,  did  not 
audibly  or  visibly  worry  about  it,  and  yet  had  lost 
weight  in  such  measure  that  upon  trying  on  a  pair  of 
his  old  trousers  taken  out  of  storage  with  some  clothes 
of  her  own,  he  found  it  impossible  to  use  the  side 
pockets  which  the  change  in  his  figure  carried  so  far 
to  the  rear  when  the  garment  was  reduced  at  the 
waist.  At  the  same  time  her  own  dresses  of  ten 
years  earlier  would  not  half  meet  round  her;  and  one 
of  the  most  corroding  cares  of  a  woman  who  had  done 
everything  a  woman  could  to  get  rid  of  care,  was 
what  to  do  with  those  things  which  they  could  neither 
of  them  ever  wear  again.  She  talked  the  matter  over 
with  herself  before  her  husband,  till  he  took  the  des 
perate  measure  of  sending  them  back  to  storage  ;  and 
they  had  been  left  there  in  the  spring  when  the  Lan 
ders  came  away  for  the  summer. 

They  always  spent  the  later  spring  months  at  a 
hotel  in  the  suburbs  of  Boston,  where  they  arrived  in 
May  from  a  fortnight  in  a  hotel  at  New  York,  on  their 
way  up  from  hotels  in  Washington,  Ashville,  Aiken 


16  RAGGED    LADY. 

and  St.  Augustine.  They  passed  the  summer  months 
in  the  mountains,  and  early  in  the  autumn  they  went 
back  to  the  hotel  in  the  Boston  suburbs,  where  Mrs. 
Lander  considered  it  essential  to  make  some  sojourn 
before  going  to  a  Boston  hotel  for  November  and 
December,  and  getting  ready  to  go  down  to  Florida 
in  January.  She  would  not  on  any  account  have  gone 
directly  to  the  city  from  the  mountains,  for  people 
who  did  that  were  sure  to  lose  the  good  of  their  sum 
mer,  and  to  feel  the  loss  all  the  winter,  if  they  did 
not  actually  come  down  with  a  fever. 

She  was  by  no  means  aware  that  she  was  a  selfish 
or  foolish  person.  She  made  Mr.  Lander  subscribe 
statedly  to  worthy  objects  in  Boston,  which  she  still 
regarded  as  home,  because  they  had  not  dwelt  any 
where  else  since  they  ceased  to  live  there ;  and  she 
took  lavishly  of  tickets  for  all  the  charitable  enter 
tainments  in  the  hotels  where  they  stayed.  Few  if 
any  guests  at  hotels  enjoyed  so  much  honor  from  por 
ters,  bell-boys,  waiters,  chambermaids  and  bootblacks 
as  the  Landers,  for  they  gave  richly  in  fees  for  every 
conceivable  service  which  could  be  rendered  them; 
they  went  out  of  their  way  to  invent  debts  of  gratitude 
to  menials  who  had  done  nothing  for  them.  He  would 
make  the  boy  who  sold  papers  at  the  dining-room 
door  keep  the  change,  when  he  had  been  charged  a 
profit  of  a  hundred  per  cent,  already ;  and  she  would 
let  no  driver  who  had  plundered  them  according  to 
the  carriage  tariff  escape  without  something  for  him 
self. 

A  sense  of  their  munificence  penetrated  the  clerks 


RAGGED    LADY.  17 

and  proprietors  with  a  just  esteem  for  guests  who 
always  wanted  the  best  of  everything,  and  questioned 
no  bill  for  extras.  Mrs.  Lander,  in  fact,  who  ruled 
these  expenditures,  had  no  knowledge  of  the  value  of 
things,  and  made  her  husband  pay  whatever  was  asked. 
Yet  when  they  lived  under  their  own  roof  they  had 
lived  simply,  and  Lander  had  got  his  money  in  an  old- 
fashioned  business  way,  and  not  in  some  delirious 
speculation  such  as  leaves  a  man  reckless  of  money 
afterwards.  He  had  been  first  of  all  a  tailor,  and  then 
he  had  gone  into  boys'  and  youths'  clothing  in  a  small 
way,  and  finally  he  had  mastered  this  business  and 
come  out  at  the  top,  with  his  hands  full.  He  invested 
his  money  so  prosperously  that  the  income  for  two 
elderly  people,  who  had  no  children,  and  only  a  few 
outlying  relations  on  his  side,  was  far  beyond  their 
wants,  or  even  their  whims. 

She  was  a  woman,  who  in  spite  of  her  bulk  and  the 
jellylike  majesty  with  which  she  shook  in  her  smoothly 
casing  brown  silks,  as  she  entered  hotel  dining-rooms, 
and  the  severity  with  which  she  frowned  over  her  fan 
down  the  length  of  the  hotel  drawing-rooms,  betrayed 
more  than  her  husband  the  commonness  of  their  ori 
gin.  She  could  not  help  talking,  and  her  accent  and 
her  diction  gave  her  away  for  a  middle-class  New 
England  person  of  village  birth  and  unfashionable  so 
journ  in  Boston.  He,  on  the  contrary,  lurked  about  the 
hotels  where  they  passed  their  days  in  a  silence  so 
dignified  that  when  his  verbs  and  nominatives  seemed 
not  to  agree,  you  accused  your  own  hearing.  He  was 
correctly  dressed,  as  an  elderly  man  should  be,  in  the 
B 


18  RAGGED    LADY. 

yesterday  of  the  fashions,  and  he  wore  with  impres- 
siveness  a  silk  hat  whenever  such  a  hat  could  be  worn. 
A  pair  of  drab  cloth  gaiters  did  much  to  identify  him 
with  an  old  school  of  gentlemen,  not  very  definite  in 
time  or  place.  He  had  a  full  gray  beard  cut  close, 
and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  pursing  his  mouth  a  great 
deal.  But  he  meant  nothing  by  it,  and  his  wife  meant 
nothing  by  her  frowning.  They  had  no  wish  to  sub 
due  or  overawe  any  one,  or  to  pass  for  persons  of 
social  distinction.  They  really  did  not  know  what 
society  was,  and  they  were  rather  afraid  of  it  than 
otherwise  as  they  caught  sight  of  it  in  their  journeys 
and  sojourns.  They  led  a  life  of  public  seclusion,  and 
dwelling  forever  amidst  crowds,  they  were  all  in  all  to 
each  other,  and  nothing  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  just 
as  they  had  been  wrhen  they  resided  (as  they  would 
have  said)  on  Pinckney  street.  In  their  own  house 
they  had  never  entertained,  though  they  sometimes 
had  company,  in  the  style  of  the  country  town  where 
Mrs.  Lander  grew  up.  As  soon  as  she  was  released 
to  the  grandeur  of  hotel  life,  she  expanded  to  the  full 
measure  of  its  responsibilities  and  privileges,  but  still 
without  seeking  to  make  it  the  basis  of  approach  to 
society.  Among  the  people  who  surrounded  her,  she 
had  not  so  much  acquaintance  as  her  husband  even, 
who  talked  so  little  that  he  needed  none.  She  some 
times  envied  his  ease  in  getting  on  with  people  when 
he  chose ;  and  his  boldness  in  speaking  to  fellow 
guests  and  fellow  travellers,  if  he  really  wanted  any 
thing.  She  wanted  something  of  them  all  the  time, 
she  wanted  their  conversation  and  their  companion- 


RAGGED    LADY.  19 

ship ;  but  in  her  ignorance  of  the  social  arts  she  was 
thrown  mainly  upon  the  compassion  of  the  chamber 
maids.  She  kept  these  talking  as  long  as  she  could 
detain  them  in  her  rooms ;  and  often  fed  them  candy 
(which  she  ate  herself  with  childish  greed)  to  bribe 
them  to  further  delays.  If  she  was  staying  some  days 
in  a  hotel,  she  sent  for  the  house-keeper,  and  made  all 
she  could  of  her  as  a  listener,  and  as  soon  as  she  set 
tled  herself  for  a  week,  she  asked  who  was  the  best 
doctor  in  the  place.  With  doctors  she  had  no  re 
serves,  and  she  poured  out  upon  them  the  history  of 
her  diseases  and  symptoms  in  an  inexhaustible  flow 
of  statement,  conjecture  and  misgiving,  which  was  by 
no  means  affected  by  her  profound  and  inexpugnable 
ignorance  of  the  principles  of  health.  From  time  to 
time  she  forgot  which  side  her  liver  was  on,  but  she 
had  been  doctored  (as  she  called  it)  for  all  her  organs, 
and  she  was  willing  to  be  doctored  for  any  one  of 
them  that  happened  to  be  in  the  place  where  she  fan 
cied  a  present  discomfort.  She  was  not  insensible  to 
the  claims  which  her  husband's  disorders  had  upon 
science,  and  she  liked  to  end  the  tale  of  her  own  suf 
ferings  with  some  such  appeal  as :  "I  wish  you  could 
do  something  for  Mr.  Landa,  too,  docta."  She  made 
him  take  a  little  of  each  medicine  that  was  left  for 
her ;  but  in  her  presence  he  always  denied  that  there 
was  anything  the  matter  with  him,  though  he  was  apt 
to  follow  the  doctor  out  of  the  room,  and  get  a  pre 
scription  from  him  for  some  ailment  which  he  pro 
fessed  not  to  believe  in  himself,  but  wanted  to  quiet 
Mrs.  Lander's  mind  about. 


20  KAGGED    LADY. 

He  rose  early,  both  from  long  habit,  and  from  the 
scant  sleep  of  an  elderly  man ;  he  could  not  lie  in  bed ; 
but  his  wife  always  had  her  breakfast  there  and  re 
mained  so  long  that  the  chambermaid  had  done  up 
most  of  the  other  rooms  and  had  leisure  for  talk  with 
her.  As  soon  as  he  was  awake,  he  stole  softly  out  and 
was  the  first  in  the  dining-room  for  breakfast.  He 
owned  to  casual  acquaintance  in  moments  of  expan 
sion  that  breakfast  was  his  best  meal,  but  he  did 
what  he  could  to  make  it  his  worst  by  beginning  with 
oranges  and  oatmeal,  going  forward  to  beefsteak  and 
fried  potatoes,  and  closing  with  griddle  cakes  and 
syrup,  washed  down  with  a  cup  of  cocoa,  which  his 
wife  decided  to  be  wholesomer  than  coffee.  By  the 
time  he  had  finished  such  a  repast,  he  crept  out  of 
the  dining-room  in  a  state  of  tension  little  short  of 
anguish,  which  he  confided  to  the  sympathy  of  the 
bootblack  in  the  washroom. 

He  always  went  from  having  his  shoes  polished  to 
get  a  toothpick  at  the  clerk's  desk;  and  at  the  Mid- 
dlemount  House,  the  morning  after  he  had  been  that 
drive  with  Mrs.  Lander,  he  lingered  a  moment  with 
his  elbows  beside  the  register.  "  How  about  a  buck- 
boa'd  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Something  you  can  drive  yourself" — the  clerk 
professionally  dropped  his  eye  to  the  register — "  Mr. 
Lander  ? " 

u  Well,  no,  I  guess  not,  this  time,"  the  little  man  re 
turned,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  Know  anything 
of  a  family  named  Claxon,  down  the  road,  here,  a 
piece  ? "  He  twisted  his  head  in  the  direction  he  meant. 


BAGGED    LADY.  21 

"This  is  my  first  season  at  Middlemount ;  but  I 
guess  Mr.  Atwell  will  know."  The  clerk  called  to  the 
landlord,  who  was  smoking  in  his  private  room  behind 
the  office,  and  the  landlord  came  out.  The  clerk  re 
peated  Mr.  Lander's  questions. 

"  Pootty  good  kind  of  folks,  I  guess,"  said  the  land 
lord  provisionally,  through  his  cigar-smoke.  "  Man's 
a  kind  of  univussal  genius,  but  he's  got  a  nice  family 
of  children;  smaht  as  traps,  all  of  'em." 

"  How  about  that  oldest  gul  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lander. 

"  Well,  the'a,"  said  the  landlord,  taking  the  cigar 
out  of  his  mouth.  "  /  think  she's  about  the  nicest 
little  thing  goin'.  We've  had  her  up  he'e,  to  help  out 
in  a  busy  time,  last  summer,  and  she's  got  moa  sense 
than  guls  twice  as  old.  Takes  hold  like — lightnin'." 

"  About  how  old  did  you  say  she  was  ?  " 

"  Well,  you've  got  me  the'a,  Mr.  Landa;  I  guess  I'll 
ask  Mis'  Atwell." 

"  The'e's  no  hurry,"  said  Lander.  "  That  buckboa'd 
be  round  pretty  soon?"  he  asked  of  the  clerk. 

"  Be  right  along  now,  Mr.  Lander,"  said  the  clerk, 
soothingly.  He  stepped  out  to  the  platform  that  the 
teams  drove  up  to  from  the  stable,  and  came  back  to 
say  that  it  was  coming.  "  I  believe  you  said  you 
wanted  something  you  could  drive  yourself  ? " 

"  No,  I  didn't,  young  man,"  answered  the  elder 
sharply.  But  the  next  moment  he  added,  "  Come  to 
think  of  it,  I  guess  it's  just  as  well.  You  needn't  get 
me  no  driver.  I  guess  I  know  the  way  well  enough. 
You  put  me  in  a  hitchin'  strap." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Lander,"  said  the  clerk,  meekly. 


22  RAGGED    LADY. 

The  landlord  had  caught  the  peremptory  note  in  Lan 
der's  voice,  and  he  came  out  of  his  room  again  to  see 
that  there  was  nothing  going  wrong. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Lander,  and  went  out  and  got 
:  into  his  buckboard. 

"  Same  horse  you  had  yesterday,"  said  the  young 
clerk.  "  You  don't  need  to  spare  the  whip." 

"  I  guess  I  can  look  out  for  myself,"  said  Lander, 
and  he  shook  the  reins  and  gave  the  horse  a  smart 
cut,  as  a  hint  of  what  he  might  expect. 

The  landlord  joined  the  clerk  in  looking  after  the 
brisk  start  the  horse  made.  "  Not  the  way  he  set  off 
with  the  old  lady,  yesterday,"  suggested  the  clerk. 

The  landlord  rolled  his  cigar  round  in  his  tubed 
lips.  "  I  guess  he's  used  to  ridin'  after  a  good  hoss." 
He  added  gravely  to  the  clerk,  u  You  don't  want  to 
make  very  free  with  that  man,  Mr.  Fane.  He  won't 
stan'  it,  and  he's  a  class  of  custom  that  you  want  to 
cata  to  when  it  comes  in  your  way.  I  suspicioned 
what  he  was  when  they  came  here  and  took  the  high 
est  cost  rooms  without  tu'nin'  a  haia.  They're  a  class 
of  custom  that  you  won't  get  outside  the  big  hotels 
in  the  big  reso'ts.  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  landlord  taking 
a  fresh  start,  "  they're  them  kind  of  folks  that  live 
the  whole  yea'  round  in  hotels ;  no'th  in  summa,  south 
in  winta,  and  city  hotels  between  times.  They  want 
the  best  their  money  can  buy,  and  they  got  plenty  of 
it.  She  " — he  meant  Mrs.  Lander — "  has  been  tellin' 
my  wife  how  they  do ;  she  likes  to  talk  a  little  betta 
than  he  doos ;  and  I  guess  when  it  comes  to  society, 
they're  away  up,  and  they  won't  stan'  any  nonsense." 


III. 

LANDER  came  into  his  wife's  room  between  ten  and 
eleven  o'clock,  and  found  her  still  in  bed,  but  with 
her  half-finished  breakfast  on  a  tray  before  her.  As 
soon  as  he  opened  the  door  she  said,  "  I  do  wish  you 
would  take  some  of  that  hea't-tonic  of  mine,  Albe't, 
that  the  docta  left  for  me  in  Boston.  You'll  find  it 
in  the  upper  right  bureau  box,  the'a ;  and  I  know  it'll 
be  the  very  thing  for  you.  It'll  relieve  you  of  that 
suffocatin'  feeling  that  /  always  have,  comin'  up 
stai's.  Dea ' !  I  don't  see  why  they  don't  have  an 
elevata ;  they  make  you  pay  enough ;  and  I  wish  you'd 
get  me  a  little  more  silva,  so's't  I  can  give  to  the  cham- 
bamaid  and  the  bell-boy ;  I  do  hate  to  be  out  of  it.  I 
guess  you  been  up  and  out  long  ago.  They  did  make 
that  polonaise  of  mine  too  tight  after  all  I  said,  and 
I've  been  thinkin'  how  I  could  get  it  alt'ed ;  but  I 
presume  there  ain't  a  seamstress  to  be  had  around 
he'e  for  love  or  money.  Well,  now,  that's  right,  Al 
be't  ;  I'm  glad  to  see  you  doin'  it." 

Lander  had  opened  the  lid  of  the  bureau  box,  and 
uncorked  a  bottle  from  it,  and  tilted  this  to  his  lips. 


24  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Don't  take  too  much,"  she  cautioned  him,  "  or 
you'll  lose  the  effects.  When  I  take  too  much  of  a 
medicine,  it's  wo'se  than  nothing,  as  fah's  I  can  make 
out.  When  I  had  that  spell  in  Thomasville  spring 
before  last,  I  believe  I  should  have  been  over  it  twice 
as  quick  if  I  had  taken  just  half  the  medicine  I  did. 
You  don't  really  feel  anyways  bad  about  the  hea't, 
do  you,  Albe't  ?  " 

"  I'm  all  right,"  said  Lander.  He  put  back  the 
bottle  in  its  place  and  sat  down. 

Mrs.  Lander  lifted  herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked 
over  at  him.  "  Show  me  on  the  bottle  how  much  you 
took." 

He  got  the  bottle  out  again  and  showed  her  with 
his  thumb  nail  a  point  which  he  chose  at  random. 

"  Well,  that  was  just  about  the  dose  for  you,"  she 
said,  and  she  sank  down  in  bed  again  with  the  air  of 
having  used  a  final  precaution.  "  You  don't  want  to 
slow  your  hea't  up  too  quick." 

Lander  did  not  put  the  bottle  back  this  time.  He 
kept  it  in  his  hand,  with  his  thumb  on  the  cork,  and 
rocked  it  back  and  forth  on  his  knees  as  he  spoke. 
"  Why  don't  you  get  that  woman  to  alter  it  for  you  ? " 

"  What  woman  alta  what  ? " 

"  Your  polonaise.  The  one  whe'e  we  stopped  yes- 
taday." 

"  Oh !  Well,  I've  been  thinkin'  about  that  child, 
Albe't;  I  did  before  I  went  to  sleep;  and  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  want  to  risk  anything  with  her.  It  would  be 
a  ca'e,"  said  Mrs.  Lander  with  a  sigh,  "  and  I  guess 
I  don't  want  to  take  any  moa  ca'e  than  what  I've  got 


RAGGED    LADY.  25 

now.  What  makes  you  think  she  could  alta  my  po 
lonaise  ? " 

"  Said  she  done  dress-makin',"  said  Lander,  dog 
gedly. 

"  You  7mVf  been  the'a  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"You  didn't  say  anything  to  her  about  her  daugh- 
ta?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,''  said  Lander. 

"  Well,  you  ce'tainly  do  equal  anything,"  said  his 
wife.  She  lay  still  awhile,  and  then  she  roused  her 
self  with  indignant  energy.  "Well,  then,  I  can  tell 
you  what,  Albe't  Landa:  you  can  go  right  straight 
and  take  back  everything  you  said.  I  don't  want  the 
child,  and  I  won't  have  her.  I've  got  care  enough  to 
worry  me  now,  I  should  think;  and  we  should  have 
her  whole  family  on  our  hands,  with  that  shiftless 
father  of  hers,  and  the  whole  pack  of  her  brothas  and 
sistas.  What  made  you  think  I  wanted  you  to  do 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  You  wanted  me  to  do  it  last  night.  Wouldn't 
ha'dly  let  me  go  to  bed." 

"  Yes  !  And  how  many  times  have  I  told  you  neva 
to  go  off  and  do  a  thing  that  I  wanted  you  to,  unless 
you  asked  me  if  I  did  ?  Must  I  die  befo'e  you  can 
find  out  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  talkin',  and  such 
anotha  thing  as  doin'  ?  You  wouldn't  get  yourself 
into  half  as  many  scrapes  if  you  talked  more  and 
done  less,  in  this  wo 'Id."  Lander  rose. 

"  Wait !  Hold  on  !  What  are  you  going  to  say 
to  the  pooa  thing  ?  She'll  be  so  disappointed  !  " 


26  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  shall  need  to  say  anything  my 
self,"  answered  the  little  man,  at  his  dryest.  "  Leave 
that  to  you." 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you,"  returned  his  wife,  "  I'm 
not  goin'  nea'  them  again ;  and  if  you  think —  What 
did  you  ask  the  woman,  anyway  ?  " 

"  I  asked  her,"  he  said,  "  if  she  wanted  to  let  the 
gul  come  and  see  you  about  some  sewing  you  had  to 
have  done,  and  she  said  she  did." 

"  And  you  didn't  speak  about  havin'  her  come  to 
live  with  us  \ " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  why  in  the  land  didn't  you  say  so  before, 
Albe't?" 

"  You  didn't  ask  me.  What  do  you  want  I  should 
say  to  her  now  ? " 

"  Say  to  who  ?  " 

"  The  gul.     She's  down  in  the  pahlor,  waitinV 

"  Well,  of  all  the  men  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lander.  But 
she  seemed  to  find  herself,  upon  reflection,  less  able 
to  cope  with  Lander  personally  than  with  the  situa 
tion  generally.  "  Will  you  send  her  up,  Albe't  ?  "  she 
asked,  very  patiently,  as  if  he  might  be  driven  to 
further  excesses,  if  not  delicately  handled.  As  soon 
as  he  had  gone  out  of  the  room  she  wished  that  she 
had  told  him  to  give  her  time  to  dress  and  have  her 
room  put  in  order,  before  he  sent  the  child  up ;  but 
she  could  only  make  the  best  of  herself  in  bed  with  a 
cap  and  a  breakfast  jacket,  arranged  with  the  help  of 
a  handglass.  She  had  to  get  out  of  bed  to  put  her 
other  clothes  away  in  the  closet  and  she  seized  the 


RAGGED    LADY.  27 

chance  to  push  the  breakfast  tray  out  of  the  door,  and 
smooth  up  the  bed,  while  she  composed  her  features 
and  her  ideas  to  receive  her  visitor.  Both,  from  long 
habit  rather  than  from  any  cause  or  reason,  were  of  a 
querulous  cast,  and  her  ordinary  tone  was  a  snuffle 
expressive  of  deep-seated  affliction.  She  was  at  once 
plaintive  and  voluable,  and  in  moments  of  excitement 
her  need  of  freeing  her  mind  was  so  great  that  she 
took  herself  into  her  own  confidence,  and  found  a 
more  sympathetic  listener  than  when  she  talked  to  her 
husband.  As  she  now  whisked  about  her  room  in 
her  bed-gown  with  an  activity  not  predicable  of  her 
age  and  shape,  and  finally  plunged  under  the  covering 
and  drew  it  up  to  her  chin  with  one  hand  while  she 
pressed  it  out  decorously  over  her  person  with  the 
other,  she  kept  up  a  rapid  flow  of  lamentation  and 
conjecture.  "  I  do  suppose  he'll  be  right  back  with 
her  before  I'm  half  ready;  and  what  the  man  was 
thinkin'  of  to  do  such  a  thing  anyway,  /  don't  know. 
I  don't  know  as  she'll  notice  much,  comin'  out  of  such 
a  lookm'  place  as  that,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  need  to 
care  if  she  did.  But  if  the'e's  care  anywhe's  around, 
I  presume  I'm  the  one  to  have  it.  I  presume  I  did 
take  a  fancy  to  her,  and  I  guess  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
how  I  like  her  now ;  and  if  he's  only  told  her  I  want 
some  sew  in'  done,  I  can  scrape  up  something  to  let 
her  carry  home  with  her.  It's  well  I  keep  my  things 
where  I  can  put  my  hand  on  'em  at  a  time  like  this, 
and  I  don't  believe  I  shall  sccCe  the  child,  as  it  is.  I 
do  hope  Albe't  won't  hang  round  half  the  day  before 
he  brings  her ;  I  like  to  have  a  thing  ova." 


28  RAGGED    LADY. 

Lander  wandered  about  looking  for  the  girl  through 
the  parlors  and  the  piazzas,  and  then  went  to  the  office 
to  ask  what  had  become  of  her. 

The  landlord  came  out  of  his  room  at  his  question 
to  the  clerk.  "  Oh,  I  guess  she's  round  in  my  wife's 
room,  Mr.  Landa.  She  always  likes  to  see  Clemen 
tina,  and  I  guess  they  all  do.  She's  a  so't  o'  pet 
amongst  'em." 

"  No  hurry,"  said  Lander,  "  I  guess  my  wife  ain't 
quite  ready  for  her  yet." 

"  Well,  she'll  be  right  out,  in  a  minute  or  so,"  said 
the  landlord. 

The  old  man  tilted  his  hat  forward  over  his  eyes, 
and  went  to  sit  on  the  veranda  and  look  at  the  land 
scape  while  he  waited.  It  was  one  of  the  loveliest 
landscapes  in  the  mountains ;  the  river  flowed  at  the 
foot  of  an  abrupt  slope  from  the  road  before  the 
hotel,  stealing  into  and  out  of  the  valley,  and  the 
mountains,  gray  in  the  farther  distance,  were  draped 
with  folds  of  cloud  hanging  upon  their  flanks  and 
tops.  But  Lander  was  tired  of  nearly  all  kinds  of 
views  and  prospects,  though  he  put  up  with  them,  in 
his  perpetual  movement  from  place  to  place,  in  the 
same  resignation  that  he  suffered  the  limitations  of 
comfort  in  parlor  cars  and  sleepers,  and  the  unwhole- 
someness  of  hotel  tables.  He  was  chained  to  the 
restless  pursuit  of  an  ideal  not  his  own,  but  doomed 
to  suffer  for  its  impossibility  as  if  he  contrived  each 
of  his  wife's  disappointments  from  it.  He  did  not 
philosophize  his  situation,  but  accepted  it  as  in  an 
order  of  Providence  which  it  would  be  useless  for  him 


RAGGED    LADY.  29 

to  oppose ;  though  there  were  moments  when  he  per 
mitted  himself  to  feel  a  modest  doubt  of  its  justice. 
He  was  aware  that  when  he  had  a  house  of  his  own 
he  was  master  in  it,  after  a  fashion,  and  that  as  long 
as  he  was  in  business  he  was  in  some  sort  of  author 
ity.  He  perceived  that  now  he  was  a  slave  to  the 
wishes  of  a  mistress  who  did  not  know  what  she 
wanted,  and  that  he  was  never  farther  from  pleasing 
her  than  when  he  tried  to  do  what  she  asked.  He 
could  not  have  told  how  all  initiative  had  been  taken 
from  him,  and  he  had  fallen  into  the  mere  follower  of 
a  woman  guided  only  by  her  whims,  who  had  no  ob 
ject  in  life  except  to  deprive  it  of  all  object.  He  felt 
no  rancor  toward  her  for  this ;  he  knew  that  she  had 
a  tender  regard  for  him,  and  that  she  believed  she 
was  considering  him  first  in  her  most  selfish  arrange 
ments.  He  always  hoped  that  sometime  she  would 
get  tired  of  her  restlessness,  and  be  willing  to  settle 
down  again  in  some  stated  place ;  and  wherever  it 
was,  he  meant  to  get  into  some  kind  of  business  again. 
Till  this  should  happen  he  waited  with  an  apathetic 
patience  of  which  his  present  abeyance  was  a  detail. 
He  would  hardly  have  thought  it  anything  unfit,  and 
certainly  nothing  surprising,  that  the  landlady  should 
have  taken  the  young  girl  away  from  where  he  had 
left  her,  and  then  in  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  her, 
and  finding  her  a  centre  of  interest  for  the  whole  do 
mestic  force  of  the  hotel,  should  have  forgotten  to 
bring  her  back. 

The  Middlemount  House  had  just  been  organized 
on  the  scale  of  a  first  class  hotel,  with  prices  that  had 


30  11AGGED    LADY. 

risen  a  little  in  anticipation  of  the  other  improvements. 
The  landlord  had  hitherto  united  in  himself  the  func 
tions  of  clerk  and  head  waiter,  but  he  had  now  got  a 
senior,  who  was  working  his  way  through  college,  to 
take  charge  of  the  dining-room,  and  had  put  in  the 
office  a  youth  of  a  year's  experience  as  under  clerk  at 
a  city  hotel.  But  he  meant  to  relinquish  no  more 
authority  than  his  wife  who  frankly  kept  the  name  as 
well  as  duty  of  house-keeper.  It  was  in  making  her 
morning  inspection  of  the  dusting  that  she  found 
Clementina  in  the  parlor  where  Lander  had  told  her 
to  sit  down  till  he  should  come  for  her. 

"  Why,  Clem  !  "  she  said,  "  I  didn't  know  you  ! 
You  have  grown  so !  Youa  folks  all  well  ?  I  decla'e 
you  ah'  quite  a  woman  now,"  she  added,  as  the  girl 
stood  up  in  her  slender,  graceful  height.  "You  look 
as  pretty  as  a  pink  in  that  hat.  Make  that  dress  youa- 
self  ?  Well,  you  do  beat  the  witch !  I  want  you 
should  come  to  my  room  writh  me." 

Mrs.  Atwell  showered  other  questions  and  exclama 
tions  on  the  girl,  who  explained  how  she  happened  to 
be  there,  and  said  that  she  supposed  she  must  stay 
where  she  was  for  fear  Mr.  Lander  should  come  back 
and  find  her  gone ;  but  Mrs.  Atwell  overruled  her  with 
the  fact  that  Mrs.  Lander's  breakfast  had  just  gone 
up  to  her ;  and  she  made  her  come  out  and  see  the 
new  features  of  the  enlarged  house-keeping.  In  the 
dining-room  there  were  some  of  the  waitresses  who 
had  been  there  the  summer  before,  and  recognitions 
of  more  or  less  dignity  passed  between  them  and 
Clementina.  The  place  was  now  shut  against  guests, 


11AGGED    LADY.  31 

and  the  head-waiter  was  having  it  put  in  order  for  the 
one  o'clock  dinner.  As  they  came  near  him,  Mrs. 
Atwell  introduced  him  to  Clementina,  and  he  behaved 
deferentially,  as  if  she  were  some  young  lady  visitor 
whom  Mrs.  Atwell  was  showing  the  improvements, 
but  he  seemed  harassed  and  impatient,  as  if  he  were 
anxious  about  his  duties,  and  eager  to  get  at  them 
again.  He  was  a  handsome  little  fellow,  with  hair 
lighter  than  Clementina's  and  a  sanguine  complexion, 
and  the  color  coming  and  going. 

"  He's  smaht,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell,  when  they  had 
left  him — he  held  the  dining-room  door  open  for 
them,  and  bowed  them  out.  "  I  don't  know  but  he 
worries  almost  too  much.  That'll  wear  off  when  he 
gets  things  runnin'  to  suit  him.  He's  pretty  p'tic'la'. 
Now  I'll  show  you  how  they've  made  the  office  over, 
and  built  in  a  room  for  Mr.  Atwell  behind  it." 

The  landlord  welcomed  Clementina  as  if  she  had 
been  some  acceptable  class  of  custom,  and  when  the 
tall  young  clerk  came  in  to  ask  him  something,  and 
Mrs.  Atwell  said,  "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Claxon,  Mr.  Fane,"  the  clerk  smiled  down  upon  her 
from  the  height  of  his  smooth,  acquiline  young  face, 
which  he  held  bent  encouragingly  upon  one  side. 

"  Now,  I  want  you  should  come  in  and  see  where 
/  live,  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell.  She  took  the 
girl  from  the  clerk,  and  led  her  to  the  official  house 
keeper's  room  which  she  said  had  been  prepared  for 
her  so  that  folks  need  not  keep  running  to  her  in  her 
private  room  where  she  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her 
children,  when  she  was  there.  •'  Why,  you  a'n't  much 


32  RAGGED    LADY. 

moa  than  a  child  youaself,  Clem,  and  here  I  be  talk- 
in'  to  you  as  if  you  was  a  mother  in  Israel.  How  old 
ah?  you,  this  summa  ?  Time  does  go  so  !  " 

"  I'm  sixteen  now,"  said  Clementina,  smiling. 

"  You  be  ?  Well,  I  don't  see  why  I  say  that,  eitha  ! 
You're  full  lahge  enough  for  your  age,  but  not  seein' 
you  in  long  dresses  before,  I  didn't  realize  your  age 
so  much.  My,  but  you  do  all  of  you  know  how  to  do 
things ! " 

"  I'm  about  the  only  one  that  don't,  Mrs.  Atwell," 
said  the  girl.  u  If  it  hadn't  been  for  mother,  I  don't 
believe  I  could  have  eva  finished  this  dress."  She 
began  to  laugh  at  something  passing  in  her  mind,  and 
Mrs.  Atwell  laughed  too,  in  sympathy,  though  she  did 
not  know  what  at  till  Clementina  said,  "  Why,  Mrs. 
Atwell,  nea'ly  the  whole  family  wo'ked  on  this  dress. 
Jim  drew  the  patte'n  of  it  from  the  dress  of  one  of 
the  summa  boa'das  that  he  took  a  fancy  to  at  the 
Centa,  and  fatha  cut  it  out,  and  I  helped  motha  make 
it.  I  guess  every  one  of  the  children  helped  a  little." 

"  Well,  it's  just  as  I  said,  you  can  all  of  you  do 
things,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell.  "  But  I  guess  you  ah'  the 
one  that  keeps  'em  straight.  What  did  you  say  Mr. 
Landa  said  his  wife  wanted  of  you  ? " 

"  He  said  some  kind  of  sewing  that  motha  could 
do." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what!  Now,  if  she  liaVt 
really  got  anything  that  your  motha'll  want  you  to 
help  with,  I  wish  you'd  come  here  again  and  help  me. 
I  tu'ncd  my  foot,  here,  two-three  weeks  back,  and  I 
feel  it,  times,  and  I  should  like  some  one  to  do  about 


RAGGED    LADY.  33 

half  my  steppin'  for  me.  I  don't  want  to  take  you 
away  from  her,  but  if.  You  sha'n't  go  int'  the  dinin'- 
room,  or  be  under  anybody's  oddas  but  mine.  Now, 
will  you  ? " 

"  I'll  see,  Mrs.  Atwell.  I  don't  like  to  say  anything 
till  I  know  what  Mrs.  Landa  wants." 

"  Well,  that's  right.  I  decla'e,  you've  got  moa 
judgment !  That's  what  I  used  to  say  about  you  last 
summa  to  my  husband:  she's  got  judgment.  Well, 
what's  wanted  ? "  Mrs.  Atwell  spoke  to  her  husband, 
who  had  opened  her  door  and  looked  in,  and  she 
stopped  rocking,  while  she  waited  his  answer. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  want  to  keep  Clementina  from 
Mr.  Landa  much  longa.  He's  settin'  out  there  on  the 
front  piazza  waitin'  for  her." 

"Well,  the'a!"  cried  Mrs.  Atwell.  "Ain't  that 
just  like  me  ?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  sooner,  Alon- 
zo  ?  Don't  you  forgit  what  I  said,  Clem  !  " 


IV. 

MRS.  Lander  had  taken  twice  of  a  specific  for  what 
she  called  her  nerve-fag  before  her  husband  came  with 
Clementina,  and  had  rehearsed  aloud  many  of  the 
things  she  meant  to  say  to  the  girl.  In  spite  of  her 
preparation,  they  were  all  driven  out  of  her  head 
when  Clementina  actually  appeared,  and  gave  her  a 
bow  like  a  young  birch's  obeisance  in  the  wind. 

"  Take  a  chaia,"  said  Lander,  pushing  her  one,  and 
the  girl  tilted  over  toward  him,  before  she  sank  into 
it.  He  went  out  of  the  room,  and  left  Mrs.  Lander 
to  deal  with  the  problem  alone.  She  apologized  for 
being  in  bed,  but  Clementina  said  so  sweetly,  "  Mr. 
Landa  told  me  you  were  not  feeling  very  well,  'm," 
that  she  began  to  be  proud  of  her  ailments,  and 
bragged  of  them  at  length,  and  of  the  different  doc 
tors  who  had  treated  her  for  them.  While  she  talked 
she  missed  one  thing  or  another,  and  Clementina 
seemed  to  divine  what  it  was  she  wanted,  and  got  it 
for  her,  with  a  gentle  deference  which  made  the  elder 
feel  her  age  cushioned  by  the  girl's  youth.  When 
she  grew  a  little  heated  from  the  interest  she  took  in 

o 


RAGGED    LADY.  35 

her  personal  annals,  and  cast  off  one  of  the  folds  of 
her  bed  clothing,  Clementina  got  her  a  fan,  and  asked 
her  if  she  should  put  up  one  of  the  windows  a  little. 

"  How  you  do  think  of  things  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lander. 
u  I  guess  I  will  let  you.  I  presume  you  get  used  to 
thinkin'  of  othas  in  a  lahge  family  like  youas.  I  don't 
suppose  they  could  get  along  without  you  very  well," 
she  suggested. 

"  I've  neva  been  away  except  last  summa,  for  a  lit 
tle  while." 

"  And  where  was  you  then  ?  " 

"  I  was  helping  Mrs.  Atwell." 

"  Did  you  like  it  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina.  "  It's  pleasant 
to  be  whe'e  things  ah'  going  on." 

"  Yes — for  young  folks,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  whom 
the  going  on  of  things  had  long  ceased  to  bring  pleas 
ure. 

"  It's  real  nice  at  home,  too,"  said  Clementina. 
"  We  have  very  good  times — evenings  in  the  winta; 
in  the  summer  it's  very  nice  in  the  woods,  around 
there.  It's  safe  for  the  children,  and  they  enjoy  it, 
and  fatha  likes  to  have  them.  Motha  don't  ca'e  so 
much  about  it.  I  guess  she'd  ratha  have  the  house 
fixed  up  more,  and  the  place.  Fatha's  going  to  do  it 
pretty  soon.  He  thinks  the'e's  time  enough." 

"That's  the  way  with  men,"  said  Mrs.  Lander. 
"  They  always  think  the's  time  enough ;  but  I  like  to 
have  things  over  and  done  with.  What  chuhch  do 
you  'tend  ? " 

"  Well,  there  isn't  any  but  the  Episcopal,"  Clem- 


36  RAGGED    LADY. 

cntina  answered.  "I  go  to  that,  and  some  of  the 
children  go  to  the  Sunday  School.  I  don't  believe 
fatha  ca'es  very  much  for  going  to  chuhch,  but  he 
likes  Mr.  Richling;  he's  the  recta.  They  take  walks 
in  the  woods ;  and  they  go  up  the  mountains  togetha." 

"They  want,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  severely,  "to  be 
ca'eful  how  they  drink  of  them  cold  brooks  when 
they're  heated.  Mr.  Richling  a  married  man  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes'm  !     But  they  haven't  got  any  family." 

"  If  I  could  see  his  wife,  I  sh'd  caution  her  about 
lettin'  him  climb  mountains  too  much.  A'n't  your 
father  afraid  he'll  ovado  ? " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  thinks  he  can't  be  too  much 
in  the  open  air  on  the  mountains." 

"  Well,  he  may  not  have  the  same  complaint  as 
Mr.  Landa ;  but  I  know  if  /  was  to  climb  a  mountain, 
it  would  lay  me  up  for  a  yea'." 

The  girl  did  not  urge  anything  against  this  convic 
tion.  She  smiled  politely  and  waited  patiently  for 
the  next  turn  Mrs.  Lander's  talk  should  take,  which 
was  oddly  enough  toward  the  business  Clementina 
had  come  upon. 

"  I  declare  I  most  forgot  about  my  polonaise.  Mr. 
Landa  said  your  motha  thought  she  could  do  some 
thing  to  it  for  me." 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Well,  I  may  as  well  let  you  see  it.  If  you'll 
reach  into  that  fuhthest  closet,  you'll  find  it  on  the 
last  uppa  hook  on  the  right  hand,  and  if  you'll  give  it 
to  me,  I'll  show  you  what  I  want  done.  Don't  mind 
the  looks  of  that  closet ;  I've  just  tossed  my  things 


RAGGED    LADY.  37 

in,  till  I  could  get  a  little  time  and  stren'tli  to  put 
'em  in  odda." 

Clementina  brought  the  polonaise  to  Mrs.  Lander, 
who  sat  up  and  spread  it  before  her  on  the  bed,  and 
had  a  happy  half  hour  in  telling  the  girl  \vhere  she 
had  bought  the  material  and  where  she  had  it  made 
up,  and  how  it  came  home  just  as  she  was  going 
away,  and  she  did  not  find  out  that  it  was  all  wrong 
till  a  week  afterwards  when  she  tried  it  on.  By  the 
end  of  this  time  the  girl  had  commended  herself  so 
much  by  judicious  and  sympathetic  assent,  that  Mrs. 
Lander  learned  with  a  shock  of  disappointment  that 
her  mother  expected  her  to  bring  the  garment  home 
with  her,  where  Mrs.  Lander  was  to  come  and  have  it 
fitted  over  for  the  alterations  she  wanted  made. 

"But  I  supposed,  from  what  Mr.  Landa  said,  that 
your  motha  would  come  here  and  fit  me ! "  she  la 
mented. 

"  I  guess  he  didn't  undastand,  'm.  Motha  doesn't 
eva  go  out  to  do  wo'k,"  said  Clementina  gently  but 
firmly. 

"  Well,  I  might  have  known  Mr.  Landa  would  mix 
it  up,  if  it  could  be  mixed ;  "  Mrs.  Lander's  sense  of 
injury  was  aggravated  by  her  suspicion  that  he  had 
brought  the  girl  in  the  hope  of  pleasing  her,  and  con 
firming  her  in  the  wish  to  have  her  with  them  ;  she 
was  not  a  woman  who  liked  to  have  her  way  in  spite 
of  herself ;  she  wished  at  every  step  to  realize  that  she 
was  taking  it,  and  that  no  one  else  was  taking  it  for 
her. 

"  Well,"  she  said  dryly,  "  I  shall  have  to  see  about 


38  RAGGED    LADT. 

it.  I'm  a  good  deal  of  an  invalid,  and  I  don't  know 
as  I  could  go  back  and  fo'th  to  try  on.  I'm  moa 
used  to  havin'  the  things  brought  to  me." 

"Yes'm,"  said  Clementina.  She  moved  a  little 
from  the  bed,  on  her  way  to  the  door,  to  be  ready  for 
Mrs.  Lander  in  leave-taking. 

"  I'm  real  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Lander.  "  I  presume 
it's  a  disappointment  for  you,  too." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  answered  Clementina.  "  I'm  sorry 
we  can't  do  the  wo'k  he'a  ;  but  I  know  motha  wouldn't 
like  to.  Good-mo'ning,'m  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  Don't  go  yet  a  minute  !  Won't  you 
just  give  me  my  hand  bag  off  the  bureau  the'a  ?  "  Mrs. 
Lander  entreated,  and  when  the  girl  gave  her  the  bag 
she  felt  about  among  the  bank-notes  which  she  seemed 
to  have  loose  in  it,  and  drew  out  a  handful  of  them 
without  regard  to  their  value.  "  Ile'a  !  "  she  said,  and 
she  tried  to  put  the  notes  into  Clementina's  hand,  "  I 
want  you  should  get  yourself  something." 

The  girl  shrank  back.  "  Oh,  no'm,"  she  said,  with 
an  effect  of  seeming  to  know  that  her  refusal  would 
hurt,  and  with  the  wish  to  soften  it.  "  I — couldn't ; 
indeed  I  couldn't." 

"  Why  couldn't  you  ?  Now  you  must !  If  I  can't 
let  you  have  the  wo'k  the  way  you  want,  I  don't  think 
it's  fair,  and  you  ought  to  have  the  money  for  it  just 
the  same." 

Clementina  shook  her  head  smiling.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  motha  would  like  to  have  me  take  it." 

"  Oh,  now,  pshaw ! "  said  Mrs.  Lander,  inadequately. 
"  I  want  you  should  take  this  for  youaself ;  and  if  you 


RAGGED    LADY.  39 

don't  want  to  buy  anything  to  wea\  you  can  get 
something  to  fix  your  room  up  with.  Don't  you  be 
afraid  of  robbin'  us.  Land  !  We  got  moa  money  ! 
Now  you  take  this." 

Mrs.  Lander  reached  the  money  as  far  toward  Clem 
entina  as  she  could  and  shook  it  in  the  vehemence  of 
her  desire. 

"Thank  you,  I  couldn't  take  it,"  Clementina  per 
sisted.  u  I'm  afraid  I  must  be  going ;  I  guess  I  must 
bid  you  good-mo'ning." 

"  Why,  I  believe  the  child's  sca'ed  of  me  !  But  you 
needn't  be.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  how  you  feel  ? 
You  set  down  in  that  chai'a  there,  and  I'll  tell  you 
how  you  feel.  I  guess  we've  been  pooa,  too — I  don't 
mean  anything  that  a'n't  exactly  right — and  I  guess 
I've  had  the  same  feelin's.  You  think  it's  demeanin' 
to  you  to  take  it.  A'n't  that  it  ?  "  Clementina  sank 
provisionally  upon  the  edge  of  the  chair.  "  Well,  it 
did  use  to  be  so  consid'ed.  But  it's  all  changed,  now 
adays.  We  travel  pretty  nea'  the  whole  while,  Mr. 
Lander  and  me,  and  we  see  folks  everywhere,  and  it 
a'n't  the  custom  to  refuse  any  moa.  Now,  a'n't  there 
any  little  thing  for  your  own  room,  there  in  your  nice 
new  house  ?  Or  something  your  motha's  got  her 
hea't  set  on  ?  Or  one  of  your  brothas  ?  My,  if  you 
don't  have  it,  some  one  else  will !  Do  take  it !  " 

The  girl  kept  slipping  toward  the  door.  "  I 
shouldn't  know  what  to  tell  them,  when  I  got  home. 
They  would  think  I  must  be — out  of  my  senses." 

"  I  guess  you  mean  they'd  think  I  was.  Now, 
listen  to  me  a  minute  ! "  Mrs.  Lander  persisted. 


40  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  You  just  take  this  money,  and  when  you  get  home, 
you  tell  your  mother  every  word  about  it,  and  if  she 
says  to,  you  bring  it  right  straight  back  to  me.  Now, 
can't  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  can,"  Clementina  faltered. 

"  Well,  then  take  it !  " 

Mrs.  Lander  put  the  bills  into  her  hand  but  she 
did  not  release  her  at  once.  She  pulled  Clementina 
down  and  herself  up  till  she  could  lay  her  other  arm 
on  her  neck.  "  I  want  you  should  let  me  kiss  you. 
Will  you  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Clementina,  and  she  kissed 
the  old  woman. 

"  You  tell  your  mother  I'm  comin'  to  see  her  before 
I  go ;  and  I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Lander  in  instant  ex 
pression  of  the  idea  that  came  into  her  mind,  "  we 
shall  be  goin'  pretty  soon,  now." 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Clementina. 

She  went  out,  and  shortly  after  Lander  came  in 
with  a  sort  of  hopeful  apathy  in  his  face. 

Mrs.  Lander  turned  her  head  on  her  pillow,  and  so 
confronted  him.  "  Albe't,  what  made  you  want  me 
to  see  that  child  ?  " 

Lander  must  have  perceived  that  his  wife  meant 
business,  and  he  came  to  it  at  once.  "  I  thought  you 
might  take  a  fancy  to  her,  and  get  her  to  come  and 
live  with  us." 

"Yes?" 

"  We're  both  of  us  gettin'  pretty  well  ow,  and  you'd 
ought  to  have  somebody  to  look  after  you  if — I'm  not 
around.  You  want  somebody  that  can  do  for  you  ; 


RAGGED    LADY.  41 

and  keep  you  company,  and  read  to  you,  and  talk  to 
you — well,  moa  like  a  daugLta  than  a  suvvant — some 
body  that  you'd  get  attached  to,  maybe  " — 

"  And  don't  you  see,"  Mrs.  Lander  broke  out  se 
verely  upon  him,  "  what  a  ca'e  that  would  be  ?  Why, 
it's  got  so  already  that  I  can't  help  thinkin'  about  her 
the  whole  while,  and  if  I  got  attached  to  her  I'd  have 
her  on  my  mind  day  and  night,  and  the  moa  she  done 
for  me  the  more  I  should  be  tewin'  around  to  do  for 
her.  I  shouldn't  have  any  peace  of  my  life  any  moa. 
Can't  you  see  that  ? " 

"  I  guess  if  you  see  it,  I  don't  need  to,"  said  Lan 
der. 

"  Well,  then,  I  want  you  shouldn't  eva  mention  her 
to  me  again.  I've  had  the  greatest  escape  !  But  I've 
got  her  off  home,  and  I've  give  her  money  enough — 
I  had  a  time  with  her  about  it — so  that  they  won't 
feel  as  if  we'd  made  'cm  trouble  for  nothing,  and  now 
I  neva  want  to  hear  of  her  again.  I  don't  want  we 
should  stay  here  a  great  while  longer ;  I  shall  be  fret- 
tin'  if  I'm  in  reach  of  her,  and  I  shan't  get  any  good 
of  the  ai'a.  Will  you  promise  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then  !  "  Mrs.  Lander  turned  her  face  upon 
the  pillow  again  in  the  dramatization  of  her  exhaust 
ion ;  but  she  was  not  so  far  gone  that  she  was  insen 
sible  to  the  possible  interest  that  a  light  rap  at  the 
door  suggested.  She  once  more  twisted  her  head  in 
that  direction  and  called,  "  Come  in  !  " 

The  door  opened  and  Clementina  came  in.  She 
advanced  to  the  bedside  smiling  joyously,  and  put 


42  RAGGED    LADY. 

the  money  Mrs.  Lander  had  given  her  down  upon  the 
counterpane. 

"  Why,  you  haven't  been  home,  child  ? " 
"  No'm,"  said  Clementina,  breathlessly.  "  But  I 
couldn't  take  it.  I  knew  they  wouldn't  want  me  to, 
and  I  thought  you'd  like  it  better  if  I  just  brought  it 
back  myself.  Good-mo'ning."  She  slipped  out  of 
the  door.  Mrs.  Lander  swept  the  bank-notes  from  the 
coverlet  and  pulled  it  over  her  head,  and  sent  from 
beneath  it  a  stifled  wail.  "  Now  we  got  to  go  !  And 
it's  all  youa  fault,  Albe't." 

Lander  took  the  money  from  the  floor,  and  smooth 
ed  each  bill  out,  and  then  laid  them  in  a  neat  pile  on 
the  corner  of  the  bureau.  He  sighed  profoundly  but 
left  the  room  without  an  effort  to  justify  himself. 


V. 

THE  Landers  had  been  gone  a  week  before  Clem 
entina's  mother  decided  that  she  could  spare  her  to 
Mrs.  Atwell  for  a  while.  It  was  established  that  she 
was  not  to  serve  either  in  the  dining-room  or  the  carv 
ing  room ;  she  was  not  to  wash  dishes  or  to  do  any 
part  of  the  chamber  work,  but  to  carry  messages  and 
orders  for  the  landlady,  and  to  save  her  steps,  when 
she  wished  to  see  the  head- waiter,  or  the  head-cook ; 
or  to  make  an  excuse  or  a  promise  to  some  of  the  lady- 
boarders  ;  or  to  send  word  to  Mr.  Atwell  about  the 
buying,  or  to  communicate  with  the  clerk  about  rooms 
taken  or  left. 

She  had  a  good  deal  of  dignity  of  her  owrn  and 
such  a  gravity  in  the  discharge  of  her  duties  that  the 
chef,  who  was  a  middle-aged  Yankee  with  grown  girls 
of  his  own,  liked  to  pretend  that  it  was  Mrs.  Atwell 
herself  who  was  talking  with  him,  and  to  discover  just 
as  she  left  him  that  it  was  Clementina.  He  called 
her  the  Boss  when  he  spoke  of  her  to  others  in  her 
hearing,  and  he  addressed  her  as  Boss  when  he  feigned 
to  find  that  it  was  not  Mrs.  Atwell.  She  did  not  mind 
that  in  him,  and  let  the  chef  have  his  joke  as  if  it  were 


44  BAGGED    LADY. 

not  one.  But  one  day  when  the  clerk  called  her  Boss 
she  merely  looked  at  him  without  speaking,  and  made 
him  feel  that  he  had  taken  a  liberty  which  he  must 
not  repeat.  He  was  a  young  man  who  much  preferred 
a  state  of  self-satisfaction  to  humiliation  of  any  sort, 
and  after  he  had  endured  Clementina's  gaze  as  long 
as  he  could,  he  said,  "  Perhaps  you  don't  allow  any 
body  but  the  chef  to  call  you  that  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  repeated  the  message  Mrs. 
Atwell  had  given  her  for  him,  and  went  away. 

It  seemed  to  him  undue  that  a  person  who  ex 
changed  repartees  with  the  young  lady  boarders  across 
his  desk,  when  they  came  many  times  a  day  to  look 
at  the  register,  or  to  ask  for  letters,  should  remain 
snubbed  by  a  girl  who  still  wore  her  hair  in  a  braid; 
but  he  was  an  amiable  youth,  and  he  tried  to  appease 
her  by  little  favors  and  services,  instead  of  trying  to 
bully  her. 

He  was  great  friends  with  the  head-waiter,  whom 
he  respected  as  a  college  student,  though  for  the  time 
being  he  ranked  the  student  socially.  He  had  him  in 
behind  the  frame  of  letter-boxes,  which  formed  a  sort 
of  little  private  room  for  him,  and  talked  with  him  at 
such  hours  of  the  forenoon  and  the  late  evening  as 
the  student  was  off  duty.  He  found  comfort  in  the 
student's  fretful  strength,  which  expressed  itself  in 
the  pugnacious  frown  of  his  hot-looking  young  face, 
where  a  bright  sorrel  mustache  was  beginning  to  blaze 
on  a  short  upper  lip. 

Fane  thought  himself  a  good-looking  fellow,  and 
he  regarded  his  figure  with  pleasure,  as  it  was  set  off 


RAGGED    LADY.  45 

by  the  suit  of  fine  gray  check  that  he  wore  habitually ; 
but  he  thought  Gregory's  educational  advantages  told 
in  his  face.  His  own  education  had  ended  at  a  com 
mercial  college,  where  he  acquired  a  good  knowledge 
of  book-keeping,  and  the  fine  business  hand  he  wrote, 
but  where  it  seemed  to  him  sometimes  that  the  earlier 
learning  of  the  public  school  had  been  hermetically 
sealed  within  him  by  several  coats  of  mathematical 
varnish.  He  believed  that  he  had  once  known  a 
number  of  things  that  he  no  longer  knew,  and  that  he 
had  not  always  been  so  weak  in  his  double  letters  as 
he  presently  found  himself. 

One  night  while  Gregory  sat  on  a  high  stool  and 
rested  his  elbow  on  the  desk  before  it,  with  his  chin 
in  his  hand,  looking  down  upon  Fane,  who  sprawled 
sadly  in  his  chair,  and  listening  to  the  last  dance 
playing  in  the  distant  parlor,  Fane  said,  "  Now,  what'll 
you  bet  that  they  won't  every  one  of  'em  come  and 
look  for  a  letter  in  her  box  before  she  goes  to  bed  ?  I 
tell  you,  girls  are  queer,  and  there's  no  place  like  a 
hotel  to  study  'em." 

"I  don't  want  to  study  them,"  said  Gregory, 
harshly. 

"  Think  Greek's  more  worth  your  while,  or  know 
'em  well  enough  already  ? "  Fane  suggested. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  them  at  all,"  said  the  student. 

"I  don't  believe,"  urged  the  clerk,  as  if  it  were  rel 
evant,  "  that  there's  a  girl  in  the  house  that  you 
couldn't  marry,  if  you  gave  your  mind  to  it." 

Gregory  twitched  irascibly.  "  I  don't  want  to 
marry  them." 


46  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Pretty  cheap  lot,  you  mean  ?  Well,  I  don't  know." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  retorted  the  student.  "  But 
I've  got  other  things  to  think  of." 

"Don't  you  believe,"  the  clerk  modestly  .urged, 
"  that  it  is  natural  for  a  man — well,  a  young  man — 
to  think  about  girls  ?  " 

"I  suppose  it  is." 

"  And  you  don't  consider  it  wrong  ?  " 

"  How,  wrong  ?  " 

"  Well,  a  waste  of  time.  I  don't  know  as  I  always 
think  about  wanting  to  marry  'em,  or  be  in  love,  but 
I  like  to  let  my  mind  run  on  'em.  There's  something 
about  a  girl  that,  well,  you  don't  know  what  it  is,  ex 
actly.  Take  almost  any  of  'em,"  said  the  clerk,  with 
an  air  of  inductive  reasoning.  "  Take  that  Claxon 
girl,  now  for  example,  I  don't  know  what  it  is  about 
her.  She's  good-looking,  I  don't  deny  that ;  and  she's 
got  pretty  manners,  and  she's  as  graceful  as  a  bird. 
But  it  a'n't  any  one  of  'em,  and  it  don't  seem  to  be 
all  of  'em  put  together  that  makes  you  want  to  keep 
your  eyes  on  her  the  whole  while.  Ever  noticed  what 
a  nice  little  foot  she's  got?  Or  her  hands?" 

"  No,"  said  the  student. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  she  ever  tries  to  show  them  off; 
though  I  know  some  girls  that  would.  But  she's  not 
that  kind.  She  ain't  much  more  than  a  child,  and 
yet  you  got  to  treat  her  just  like  a  woman.  Noticed 
the  kind  of  way  she's  got  ? " 

"  No,"  said  the  student,  with  impatience. 

The  clerk  mused  with  a  plaintive  air  for  a  moment 
before  he  spoke.  "Well,  it's  something  as  if  she'd 


RAGGED    LADY.  47 

been  trained  to  it,  so  that  she  knew  just  the  right 
thing  to  do,  every  time,  and  yet  I  guess  it's  nature. 
You  know  how  the  chef  always  calls  her  the  Boss  ? 
That  explains  it  about  as  well  as  anything,  and  I  pre 
sume  that's  what  my  mind  was  running  on,  the  other 
day,  when  /  called  her  Boss.  But,  my  !  I  can't  get 
anywhere  near  her  since  ! " 

"It  serves  you  right,"  said  Gregory.  "You  had 
no  business  to  tease  her." 

"Now,  do  you  think  it  was  teasing?  /  did,  at 
first,  and  then  again  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  came  out 
with  the  word  because  it  seemed  the  right  one.  I 
presume  I  couldn't  explain  that  to  her." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  easy." 

"  I  look  upon  her,"  said  Fane,  with  an  effect  of  ar 
gument  in  the  sweetness  of  his  smile,  "just  as  I  would 
upon  any  other  young  lady  in  the  house.  Do  you 
spell  apology  with  one  p  or  two  ? " 

"One,"  said  the  student,  and  the  clerk  made  a 
minute  on  a  piece  of  paper. 

"  I  feel  badly  for  the  girl.  I  don't  want  her  to 
think  I  was  teasing  her  or  taking  any  sort  of  liberty 
with  her.  Now,  would  you  apologize  to  her,  if  you 
was  in  my  place,  and  would  you  write  a  note,  or  just 
wait  your  chance  and  speak  to  her  ? " 

Gregory  got  down  from  his  stool  with  a  disdainful 
laugh,  and  went  out  of  the  place.  "  You  make  me 
sick,  Fane,"  he  said. 

The  last  dance  was  over,  and  the  young  ladies  who 
had  been  waltzing  with  one  another,  came  out  of  the 
parlor  with  gay  cries  and  laughter,  like  summer  girls 


48  RAGGED    LADY. 

who  had  been  at  a  brilliant  hop,  and  began  to  stray 
down  the  piazzas,  and  storm  into  the  office.  Several 
of  them  fluttered  up  to  the  desk,  as  the  clerk  had 
foretold,  and  looked  for  letters  in  the  boxes  bearing 
their  initials.  They  called  him  out,  and  asked  if  he 
had  not  forgotten  something  for  them.  He  denied  it 
with  a  sad,  wise  smile,  and  then  they  tried  to  provoke 
him  to  a  belated  flirtation,  in  lack  of  other  material, 
but  he  met  their  overtures  discreetly,  and  they  pres 
ently  said,  Well,  they  guessed  they  must  go;  and 
went.  Fane  turned  to  encounter  Gregory,  who  had 
come  in  by  a  side  door. 

"  Fane,  I  want  to  beg  your  pardon.  I  was  rude  to 
you  just  now." 

"  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  no  !  "  the  clerk  protested.  "  That's 
all  rio-ht.  Sit  down  a  while,  can't  you,  and  talk  with 

O 

a  fellow.     It's  early,  yet." 

"  No,  I  can't,  I  just  wanted  to  say  I  was  sorry  I 
spoke  in  that  way.  Good-night.  Is  there  anything 
in  particular?" 

"  No  ;  good-night.     I  was  just  wondering  about — 

that  girl." 
"Oh!" 


VI. 

GREGORY  had  an  habitual  severity  with  his  own 
behavior  which  did  not  stop  there,  but  was  always 
passing  on  to  the  behavior  of  others ;  and  his  days 
went  by  in  alternate  offence  and  reparation  to  those 
he  had  to  do  with.  He  had  to  do  chiefly  with  the 
dining-room  girls,  whose  susceptibilities  were  such 
that  they  kept  about  their  work  bathed  in  tears  or 
suffused  with  anger  much  of  the  time.  He  was  not 
only  good-looking  but  he  was  a  college  student,  and 
their  feelings  were  ready  to  bud  toward  him  in  tender 
efflorescence,  but  he  kept  them  cropped  and  blighted 
by  his  curt  words  and  impatient  manner.  Some  of 
them  loved  him  for  the  hurts  he  did  them,  and  some 
hated  him,  but  all  agreed  fondly  or  furiously  that  he 
was  too  cross  for  anything.  They  were  mostly  young 
school-mistresses,  and  whether  they  were  of  a  soft  and 
amorous  make,  or  of  a  forbidding  temper,  they  knew 
enough  in  spite  of  their  hurts  to  value  a  young  fellow 
whose  thoughts  were  not  running  upon  girls  all  the 
time.  Women,  even  in  their  spring-time,  like  men  to 
treat  them  as  if  they  had  souls  as  well  as  hearts,  and 
D 


50  1LAGGED    LADY. 

it  was  a  saving  grace  in  Gregory  that  lie  treated  them 
all,  the  silliest  of  them,  as  if  they  had  souls.  Very 
likely  they  responded  more  with  their  hearts  than  with 
their  souls,  but  they  were  aware  that  this  was  not  his 
fault. 

The  girls  that  waited  at  table  saw  that  he  did  not 
distinguish  in  manner  between  them  and  the  girls 
whom  they  served.  The  knot  between  his  brows  did 
not  dissolve  in  the  smiling  gratitude  of  the  young  la 
dies  whom  he  preceded  to  their  places,  and  pulled  out 
their  chairs  for,  any  more  than  in  the  blandishments 
of  a  waitress  who  thanked  him  for  some  correction. 

They  owned  when  he  had  been  harshest  that  no 
one  could  be  kinder  if  he  saw  a  girl  really  trying,  or 
more  patient  with  well  meaning  stupidity,  but  some 
things  fretted  him,  and  he  was  as  apt  to  correct  a  girl 
in  her  grammar  as  in  her  table  service.  Out  of  work 
hours,  if  he  met  any  of  them,  he  recognized  them 
with  deferential  politeness ;  but  he  shunned  occasions 
of  encounter  with  them  as  distinctly  as  he  avoided 
the  ladies  among  the  hotel  guests.  Some  of  the  table 
girls  pitied  his  loneliness,  and  once  they  proposed 
that  he  should  read  to  them  on  the  back  piazza  in  the 
leisure  of  their  mid-afternoons.  He  said  that  he  had 
to  keep  up  with  his  studies  in  all  the  time  he  could 
get;  he  treated  their  request  with  grave  civility, but 
they  felt  his  refusal  to  be  final. 

He  was  seen  very  little  about  the  house  outside  of 
his  own  place  and  function,  and  he  was  scarcely 
known  to  consort  with  anyone  but  Fane,  who  cele 
brated  his  high  sense  of  the  honor  to  the  lady-guests ; 


BAGGED    LADY.  51 

but  if  any  of  these  would  have  been  willing  to  show 
Gregory  that  they  considered  his  work  to  get  an  edu 
cation  as  something  that  redeemed  itself  from  dis 
credit  through  the  nobility  of  its  object,  he  gave  them 
no  chance  to  do  so. 

The  afternoon  following  their  talk  about  Clemen 
tina,  Gregory  looked  in  for  Fane  behind  the  letter 
boxes,  but  did  not  find  him,  and  the  girl  herself  came 
round  from  the  front  to  say  that  he  was  out  buying, 
but  would  be  back  now,  very  soon;  it  was  occasionally 
the  clerk's  business  to  forage  among  the  farmers  for 
the  lighter  supplies,  such  as  eggs,  and  butter,  and 
poultry,  and  this  was  the  buying  that  Clementina 
meant.  "  Very  well,  I'll  wait  here  for  him  a  little 
while,"  Gregory  answered. 

"  So  do,"  said  Clementina,  in  a  formula  which  she 
thought  polite ;  but  she  saw  the  frown  with  which 
Gregory  took  a  Greek  book  from  his  pocket,  and  she 
hurried  round  in  front  of  the  boxes  again,  wondering 
how  she  could  have  displeased  him.  She  put  her  face 
in  sight  a  moment  to  explain,  "  I  have  got  to  be  here 
and  give  out  the  lettas  till  Mr.  Fane  gets  back,"  and 
then  withdrew  it.  He  tried  to  lose  himself  in  his 
book,  but  her  tender  voice  spoke  from  time  to  time 
beyond  the  boxes,  and  Gregory  kept  listening  for 
Clementina  to  say,  "  No'm,  there  a'n't.  Perhaps, 
the'e'll  be  something  the  next  mail,"  and  "  Yes'm, 
he'e's  one,  and  I  guess  this  paper  is  for  some  of  youa 
folks,  too." 

Gregory  shut  his  book  with  a  sudden  bang  at  last 
and  jumped  to  his  feet,  to  go  away. 


52  RAGGED    LADY. 

The  girl  came  running  round  the  corner  of  the 
boxes.  "  Oh  !  I  thought  something  had  happened." 

"  No,  nothing  has  happened,"  said  Gregory,  with  a 
sort  of  violence,  which  was  heightened  by  a  sense  of 
the  rings  and  tendrils  of  loose  hair  springing  from  the 
mass  that  defined  her  pretty  head.  "  Don't  you  know 
that  you  oughtn't  to  say  'No'm'  and  '  Yes'm?'"  he 
demanded,  bitterly,  and  then  he  expected  to  see  the 
water  come  into  her  eyes,  or  the  fire  into  her  cheeks. 

Clementina  merely  looked  interested.  "  Did  I  say 
that?  I  meant  to  say  Yes,  ma'am  and  No,  ma'am; 
but  I  keep  forgetting." 

"  You  oughtn't  to  say  anything  ! "  Gregory  an 
swered  savagely,  "  Just  say  Yes,  and  No,  and  let 
your  voice  do  the  rest." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  girl,  with  the  gentlest  abeyance,  as 
if  charmed  with  the  novelty  of  the  idea.  u  I  should 
be  afraid  it  wasn't  polite." 

Gregory  took  an  even  brutal  tone.  It  seemed  to 
him  as  if  he  were  forced  to  hurt  her  feelings.  But 
his  words,  in  spite  of  his  tone, were  not  brutal;  they 
might  have  even  been  thought  flattering.  "  The  po 
liteness  is  in  the  manner,  and  you  don't  need  anything 
but  your  manner." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  truly  ?  "  asked  the  girl  joyously. 
"  I  should  like  to  try  it  once  !  " 

He  frowned  again.  "  I've  no  business  to  criticise 
your  way  of  speaking  " — 

"  Oh  yes'm — yes,  ma'am  ;  sir,  I  mean ;  I  mean,  Oh, 
yes,  indeed !  The'a  !  It  does  sound  just  as  well, 
don't  it  ? "  Clementina  laughed  in  triumph  at  the 


RAGGED    LADY.  53 

outcome  of  her  efforts,  so  that  a  reluctant  and  pro 
visional  smile  came  upon  Gregory's  face,  too.  "  And 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Gregory.  I  shall 
always  want  to  do  it,  if  it's  the  right  way." 

"  It's  the  right  way,"  said  Gregory  coldly. 

"  And  don't  they,"  she  urged,  "  don't  they  really 
say  Sir  and  J/a'am,  wrhe'e — whe'e  you  came  from  ? " 

He  said  gloomily,  "  Not  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Ser 
vants  do.  Waiters — like  me."  He  inflicted  this  stab 
to  his  pride  with  savage  fortitude  and  he  bore  with 
self-scorn  the  pursuit  of  her  innocent  curiosity. 

"  But  I  thought —  I  thought  you  was  a  college 
student." 

"  Were,"  Gregory  corrected  her,  involuntarily,  and 
she  said,  "  Were,  I  mean" 

"  I'm  a  student  at  college,  and  here  I'm  a  servant ! 
It's  all  right ! "  he  said  with  a  suppressed  gritting  of 
the  teeth  ;  and  he  added,  "  My  Master  was  the  servant 
of  the  meanest,  and  I  must —  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
meddling  with  your  manner  of  speaking  " — 

"  Oh,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you ;  indeed  I  am. 
And  I  shall  not  care  if  you  tell  me  of  anything  that's 
out  of  the  way  in  my  talking,"  said  Clementina,  gen 
erously. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  think  I  won't  wait  any  longer  for 
Mr.  Fane." 

"  Why,  I'm  su'a  he'll  be  back  very  soon,  now.  I'll 
try  not  to  disturb  you  any  moa." 

Gregory  turned  from  taking  some  steps  towards  the 
door,  and  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  Mr.  Fane 
something." 


54:  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  For  you  ?     Why,  guttainly  !  " 

"  No.  For  you.  Tell  him  that  it's  all  right  about 
his  calling  you  Boss." 

The  indignant  color  came  into  Clementina's  face. 
"He  had  no  business  to  call  me  that." 

"No;  and  he  doesn't  think  he  had,  now-.  He's 
truly  sorry  for  it." 

"  I'll  see,"  said  Clementina. 

She  had  not  seen  by  the  time  Fane  got  back.  She 
received  his  apologies  for  being  gone  so  long  coldly, 
and  went  away  to  Mrs.  Atwcll,  whom  she  told  what 
had  passed  between  Gregory  and  herself. 

"  Is  he  truly  so  proud  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He's  a  very  good  young  man,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell, 
"  but  I  guess  he's  proud.  He  can't  help  it,  but  you 
can  see  he  fights  against  it.  If  I  was  you,  Clem,  I 
wouldn't  say  anything  to  the  guls  about  it." 

"  Oh,  no'm — I  mean,  no,  indeed.  I  shouldn't 
think  of  it.  But  don't  you  think  that  was  funny,  his 
bringing  in  Christ,  that  way  ? " 

"  Well,  he's  going  to  be  a  minister,  you  know." 

"  Is  he  really  ?  "  Clementina  was  a  while  silent. 
At  last  she  said,  "  Don't  you  think  Mr.  Gregory  has 
a  good  many  freckles  ? " 

"  Well,  them  red-complected  kind  is  liable  to 
freckle,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell,  judicially. 

After  rather  a  long  pause  for  both  of  them,  Clem 
entina  asked,  "  Do  you  think  it  would  be  nice  for  me 
to  ask  Mr.  Gregory  about  things,  when  I  wasn't  sut- 
tain  ? " 

"  Like  what  ?  " 


RAGGED    LADY.  55 

"  Oil — wo'ds,  and  pronunciation ;  and  books  to 
read." 

"Why,  I  presume  he'd  love  to  have  you.  He's 
always  correctin'  the  guls ;  I  see  him  take  up  a  book 
one  day,  that  one  of  'em  was  readin',  and  when  she 
as't  him  about  it,  he  said  it  was  rubbage.  I  guess 
you  couldn't  have  a  betta  guide." 

"Well,  that  was  what  I  was  thinking.  I  guess  I 
sha'n't  do  it,  though.  I  sh'd  neva  have  the  courage." 
Clementina  laughed  and  then  fell  rather  seriously 
silent  again. 


VII. 

ONE  day  the  shoeman  stopped  his  wagon  at  the 
door  of  the  helps'  house,  and  called  up  at  its  windows, 
"  Well,  guls,  any  of  you  want  to  git  a  numba  fotia 
foot  into  a  numba  two  shoe,  to-day?  Now's  youa 
chance,  but  you  got  to  be  quick  about  it.  The'e 
ha'n't  but  just  so  many  numba  two  shoes  made,  and 
the  wohld's  full  o'  numba  foua  feet." 

The  windows  filled  with  laughing  faces  at  the  first 
sound  of  the  shoeman's  ironical  voice ;  and  at  sight 
of  his  neat  wagon,  with  its  drawers  at  the  rear  and 
sides,  and  its  buggy-hood  over  the  seat  where  the  shoe 
man  lounged  lazily  holding  the  reins,  the  girls  flocked 
down  the  stairs,  and  out  upon  the  piazza  where  the 
shoe  man  had  handily  ranged  his  vehicle. 

They  began  to  ask  him  if  he  had  not  this  thing  and 
that,  but  he  said  with  firmness,  "  Nothin'  but  shoes, 
guls.  I  did  carry  a  gen'l  line,  one  while,  of  what 
you  may  call  ankle-wea',  such  as  spats,  and  stockin's, 
and  gaitas,  but  I  neva  did  like  to  speak  of  such  things 
befoa  ladies,  and  now  I  stick  ex-clusively  to  shoes. 
You  know  that  well  enough,  guls  ;  what's  the  use  ? " 

lie  kept  a  sober  face  amidst  the  giggling  that  his 


RAGGED    LADY.  57 

words  aroused,  and  let  his  voice  sink  into  a  final  note 
of  injury. 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  want  any  shoes,  to-day,  I  guess 
I  must  be  goin'."  He  made  a  feint  of  jerking-  his 
horse's  reins,  but  forebore  at  the  entreaties  that  went 
up  from  the  group  of  girls. 

"  Yes,  we  do  ! "  "  Let's  see  them  !  "  "  Oh,  don't 
go !  "  they  chorused  in  an  equally  histrionic  alarm, 
and  the  shoeman  got  down  from  his  perch  to  show 
his  wares. 

"  Now,  the'a,  ladies,"  he  said,  pulling  out  one  of  the 
drawers,  and  dangling  a  pair  of  shoes  from  it  by  the 
string  that  joined  their  heels,  "  the'e's  a  shoe  that  looks 
as  good  as  any  Sat'd'y-night  shoe  you  eva  see.  Looks 
as  han'some  as  if  it  had  a  pasteboa'd  sole  and  was  split 
stock  all  through,  like  the  kind  you  buy  for  a  dollar 
at  the  store,  and  kick  out  in  the  fust  walk  you  take 
with  your  fella — or  some  other  gul's  fella,  I  don't 
ca'e  which.  And  yet  that's  an  honest  shoe,  made  of 
the  best  of  material  all  the  way  through,  and  in  the 
best  manna.  Just  look  at  that  shoe,  ladies ;  or-aminc 
it ;  sha'n't  cost  you  a  cent,  and  I'll  pay  for  youa  lost 
time  myself,  if  any  complaint  is  made."  He  began 
to  toss  pairs  of  the  shoes  into  the  crowd  of  girls,  who 
caught  them  from  each  other  before  they  fell,  with 
hysterical  laughter,  and  ran  away  with  them  in-doors 
to  try  them  on.  "  This  is  a  shoe  that  I'm  intaducin'," 
the  shoeman  went  on,  "  and  every  pair  is  warranted — 
warranted  numba  two  ;  don't  make  any  otha  size,  be 
cause  we  want  to  cata  to  a  strictly  numba  two  custom. 
If  any  lady  doos  feel  'cm  a  little  mite  too  snug,  I'm 


58  RAGGED    LADY. 

sorry  for  her,  but  I  can't  do  anything  to  help  her  in 
this  shoe." 

"Too  snug!'1''  came  a  gay  voice  from  in-doors. 
"  Why  my  foot  feels  puffeetly  lost  in  this  one." 

"  All  right,"  the  shoeman  shouted  back.  "  Call  it 
a  numba  one  shoe  and  then  see  if  you  can't  find  that 
lost  foot  in  it,  some'eres.  Or  try  a  little  flour,  and 
see  if  it  won't  feel  more  at  home.  I've  hea'd  of  a 
shoe  that  give  that  sensation  of  looseness  by  not  goin' 
on  at  all." 

The  girls  exulted  joyfully  together  at  the  defeat  of 
their  companion,  but  the  shoeman  kept  a  grave  face, 
while  he  searched  out  other  sorts  of  shoes  and  slip 
pers,  and  offered  them,  or  responded  to  some  definite 
demand  with  something  as  near  like  as  he  could  hope 
to  make  serve.  The  tumult  of  talk  and  laughter  grew 
till  the  chef  put  his  head  out  of  the  kitchen  door,  and 
then  came  sauntering  across  the  grass  to  the  helps' 
piazza.  At  the  same  time  the  clerk  suffered  himself 
to  be  lured  from  his  post  by  the  excitement.  He 
came  and  stood  beside  the  chef,  who  listened  to  the 
shoeman's  flow  of  banter  with  a  longing  to  take  his 
chances  with  him. 

"  That's  a  nice  hawss,"  he  said.  "  What'll  you 
take  for  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  hello  ! "  said  the  shoeman,  with  an  eye  that 
dwelt  upon  the  chefs  official  white  cap  and  apron, 
"You  talk  English,  don't  you?  Fust  off,  I  didn't 
know  but  it  was  one  of  them  foreign  dukes  come  ova 
he'a  to  marry  some  oua  poor  raillionai'cs  daughtas." 
l"he  girls  cried  out  for  joy,  and  the  r/^/bore  their 


RAGGED    LADY. 

mirth  stoically,  but  not  without  a  personal  relish  of  the 
shoeman's  np-and  coming-ness.  "Want  a  hawss?" 
asked  tlie  shoeman  with  an  air  of  business.  "  What'll 
you  give  ? " 

"  I'll  give  fou  thutty-seven  dollas  and  a  half,"  said 
the  chef. 

"Sorry  I  can't  take  it.  That  hawss  is  sellin'  at 
present  for  just  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollas." 

"Well,"  said  the  chef,  "I'll  raise  you  a  dolla  and  a 
quanta.  Say  tlmtty-eight  and  seventy-five." 

"Well  now,  you're  gittin'  up  among  the  figgas 
where  you're  liable  to  own  a  hawss.  You  just  keep 
right  on  a  raisin'  me,  while  I  sell  these  ladies  some 
shoes,  and  maybe  you'll  hit  it  yit,  'fo'e  night." 

The  girls  were  trying  on  shoes  on  every  side  now, 
and  they  had  dispensed  with  the  formality  of  going 
in-doors  for  the  purpose.  More  than  one  put  out  her 
foot  to  the  clerk  for  his  opinion  of  the  tit,  and  the 
shoeman  was  mingling  with  the  crowd,  testing  with 
his  hand,  advising  from  his  professional  knowledge, 
suggesting,  urging,  and  in  some  cases  artfully  agreeing 
with  the  reluctance  shown. 

"  This  man,"  said  the  chef,  indicating  Fane,  "  says 
you  can  tell  moa  lies  to  the  square  inch  than  any  man 
out  o'  Boston." 

"  Doos  he  ? "  asked  the  shoeman,  turning  with  a 
pair  of  high-heeled  bronze  slippers  in  his  hand  from 
the  wagon.  "  Well,  now,  if  I  stood  as  nea'  to  him  as 
you  do,  I  believe  I  sh'd  hit  him." 

"  Why,  man,  I  can't  dispute  him  !  "  said  the  chef, 
and  as  if  he  had  now  at  last  scored  a  point,  he  threw 


60  RAGGED    LADY. 

back  his  head  and  laughed.  When  he  brought  down 
his  head  again,  it  was  to  perceive  the  approach  of 
Clementina.  "  Hello,"  he  said  for  her  to  hear,  "he'e 
comes  the  Boss.  Well,  I  guess  I  must  be  goin',"  he 
added,  in  mock  anxiety.  "  I'm  a  goin',  Boss,  I'm  a 
goin'." 

Clementina  ignored  him.  "Mr.  Atwell  wants  to 
see  you  a  moment,  Mr.  Fane,"  she  said  to  the  clerk. 

"  All  right,  Miss  Claxon,"  Fane  answered,  with  the 
sorrowful  respect  which  he  always  showed  Clemen 
tina,  now,  "  I'll  be  right  there."  But  he  waited  a 
moment,  either  in  expression  of  his  personal  independ 
ence,  or  from  curiosity  to  know  what  the  shoeman 
was  going  to  say  of  the  bronze  slippers. 

Clementina  felt  the  fascination,  too;  she  thought 
the  slippers  were  beautiful,  and  her  foot  thrilled  with 
a  mysterious  prescience  of  its  fitness  for  them. 

"  Now,  the'e,  ladies,  or  as  I  may  say  guls,  if  you'll 
excuse  it  in  one  that's  moa  like  a  fatha  to  you  than 
anything  else,  in  his  feelings" — the  girls  tittered,  and 
some  one  shouted  derisively — "  It's  true  ! — now  there 
is  a  shoe,  or  call  it  a  slippa,  that  I've  rutha  hesitated 
about  showin'  to  you,  because  I  know  that  you're  all 
rutha  serious-minded,  I  don't  ca'e  how  young  ye  be, 
or  how  good-foo&m'  ye  be  ;  and  I  don't  presume  the'e's 
one  among  you  that's  eva  hea'd  o'  dancin'."  In  the 
mirthful  hooting  and  mocking  that  followed,  the  shoe 
man  hedged  gravely  from  the  extreme  position  he  had 
taken.  "  What  ?  Well,  maybe  you  have  among  some 
the  summa  folks,  but  we  all  know  what  summa  folks 
ah',  and  I  don't  expect  you  to  patte'n  by  them.  But 


BAGGED    LADY.  61 

what  I  will  say  is  that  if  any  young  lady  within  the 
sound  of  my  voice," — he  looked  round  for  the  ap 
plause  which  did  not  fail  him  in  his  parody  of  the 
pulpit  style — "should  get  an  invitation  to  a  dance 
next  winta,  and  should  feel  it  a  wo'k  of  a  charity  to 
the  young  man  to  go,  she'll  be  sorry — on  his  account, 
rememba — that  she  ha'n't  got  this  pair  o'  slippas. 
The'a !  They're  a  numba  two,  and  they'll  fit  any  lady 
here,  I  don't  ca'e  how  small  a  foot  she's  got.  Don't 
all  speak  at  once,  sistas !  Ample  time  allowed  for 
meals.  That's  a  custom-made  shoe,  and  if  it  hadn't 
b'en  too  small  for  the  lady  they  was  oddid  foh,  you 
couldn't  'a'  got  'em  for  less  than  seven  dollas ;  but 
now  I'm  throwin'  on  'em  away  for  three." 

A  groan  of  dismay  went  up  from  the  whole  circle, 
and  some  who  had  pressed  forward  for  a  sight  of  the 
slippers,  shrank  back  again. 

"  Did  I  hea'  just  now,"  asked  the  shoernan,  with  a 
soft  insinuation  in  his  voice,  and  in  the  glance  he 
suddenly  turned  upon  Clementina,  "  a  party  addressed 
as  Boss?"  Clementina  flushed,  but  she  did  not  cow 
er;  the  chef  walked  away  with  a  laugh,  and  the  shoe- 
man  pursued  him  with  his  voice.  "  Not  that  I  am 
goin'  to  folia  the  wicked  example  of  a  man  who  tries 
to  make  spo't  of  young  ladies;  but  if  the  young  lady 
addressed  as  Boss  " — 

"Miss  Claxon,"  said  the  clerk  with  ingratiating 
reverence. 

"  Miss  Claxon — I  starf  corrected,"  pursued  the  shoe- 
man.  "If  Miss  Claxon  will  do  me  the  fava  just  to 
try  on  this  slippa,  I  sh'd  be  able  to  tell  at  the  next 


62  HAGGKU    LADY. 

I/ 

place  I  stopped  just  how  it  looked  on  a  lady's  foot. 
I  see  you  aVt  any  of  you  disposed  to  buy  'cm  tliis 
aftanoon,  and  I  a'n't  complainin' ;  you  done  pootty 
vvell  by  me,  already,  and  I  don't  want  to  uhge  you ; 
but  I  do  want  to  carry  away  the  picture,  in  my  mind's 
eye — what  you  may  call  a  mental  photograph — of 
this  slipper  on  the  kind  of  a  foot  it  was  made  foh,  so't 
I  can  praise  it  truthfully  to  my  next  customer.  What 
do  you  say,  ma'am  ?  "  he  addressed  himself  with  pro 
found  respect  to  Clementina. 

"  Oh,  do  let  him,  Clem  !  "  said  one  of  the  girls,  and 
another  pleaded,  "  Just  so  he  needn't  tell  a  story  to 
his  next  customa,"  and  that  made  the  rest  laugh. 

Clementina's  heart  was  throbbing,  and  joyous  lights 
were  dancing  in  her  eyes.  "  I  don't  care  if  I  do," 
she  said,  and  she  stooped  to  unlace  her  shoe,  but  one 
of  the  big  girls  threw  herself  on  her  knees  at  her  feet 
to  prevent  her.  Clementina  remembered  too  late  that 
there  was  a  hole  in  her  stocking  and  that  her  little  toe 
came  through  it,  but  she  now  folded  the  toe  artfully 
down,  and  the  big  girl  discovered  the  hole  in  time 
to  abet  her  attempt  at  concealment.  She  caught  the 
slipper  from  the  shoeman  and  hurried  it  on ;  she  tied 
the  ribbons  across  the  instep,  and  then  put  on  the 
other.  "  Now  put  out  youa  foot,  Clem  !  Fust  dancin' 
position  !  "  She  leaned  back  upon  her  own  heels,  and 
Clementina  daintily  lifted  the  edge  of  her  skirt  a  little, 
and  peered  over  at  her  feet.  The  slippers  might  or 
might  not  have  been  of  an  imperfect  taste,  in  their 
imitation  of  the  prevalent  fashion,  but  on  Clementina's 
feet  they  had  distinction. 


RAGGED    LADY.  63 

"  Them  feet  was  made  for  them  slippas,"  said  the 
shoeman  devoutly. 

The  clerk  was  silent;  he  put  his  hand  helplessly  to 
his  mouth,  and  then  dropped  it  at  his  side  again. 

Gregory  came  round  the  corner  of  the  building  from 
the  dining-room,  and  the  big  girl  who  was  crouching 
before  Clementina,  and  who  boasted  that  she  was  not 
afraid  of  the  student,  called  saucily  to  him,  "  Come 
here,  a  minute,  Mr.  Gregory,"  and  as  he  approached, 
she  tilted  aside,  to  let  him  see  Clementina's  slippers. 

Clementina  beamed  up  at  him  with  all  her  happi 
ness  in  her  eyes,  but  after  a  faltering  instant,  his  face 
reddened  through  its  freckles,  and  he  gave  her  a  re 
buking  frown  and  passed  on. 

"  Well,  I  declare !  "  said  the  big  girl.  Fane  turned 
uneasily,  and  said  with  a  sigh,  he  guessed  he  must  be 
going,  now. 

A  blight  fell  upon  the  gay  spirits  of  the  group, 
and  the  shoeman  asked  with  an  ironical  glance  after 
Gregory's  retreating  figure,  "  Owna  of  this  propaty  ?  " 

"  No,  just  the  ea'th,"  said  the  big  girl,  angrily. 

The  voice  of  Clementina  made  itself  heard  with  a 
cheerfulness  which  had  apparently  suffered  no  chill, 
but  was  really  a  rising  rebellion.  "  How  much  ah' 
the  slippas  ? " 

"  Three  dollas,"  said  the  shoeman  in  a  surprise 
which  he  could  not  conceal  at  Clementina's  courage. 

She  laughed,  and  stooped  to  untie  the  slippers. 
"  That's  too  much  for  me." 

"  Let  me  untie  'em,  Clem,"  said  the  big  girl.  "  It's 
a  shame  for  you  eva  to  take  'em  off." 


64  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  That's  right,  lady,"  said  the  shocman.  "  And 
you  don't  eva  need  to,"  he  added,  to  Clementina,  "  un 
less  you  object  to  sleepin'  in  'em.  You  pay  me  what 
you  want  to  now,  and  the  rest  when  I  come  around 
the  latta  paht  of  August." 

"  Oh  keep  'cm,  Clem  !  "  the  big  girl  urged,  passion 
ately,  and  the  rest  joined  her  with  their  entreaties. 

"  I  guess  I  bctta  not,"  said  Clementina,  and  she 
completed  the  work  of  taking  off  the  slippers  in  which 
the  big  girl  could  lend  her  no  further  aid,  such  was 
her  affliction  of  spirit. 

"  All  right,  lady,"  said  the  shoeman.  "  Them's 
youa  slippas,  and  I'll  just  keep  'em  for  you  till  the 
latta  paht  of  August." 

He  drove  away,  and  in  the  woods  which  he  had  to 
pass  through  on  the  road  to  another  hotel  he  overtook 
the  figure  of  a  man  pacing  rapidly.  He  easily  recog 
nized  Gregory,  but  he  bore  him  no  malice.  "  Like  a 
lift  ? "  he  asked,  slowing  up  beside  him. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Gregory.  "  I'm  out  for  the 
walk."  He  looked  round  furtively,  and  then  put  his 
hand  on  the  side  of  the  wagon,  mechanically,  as  if  to 
detain  it,  while  he  walked  on. 

"  Did  you  sell  the  slippers  to  the  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  as  you  may  say  sell,  exactly,"  returned 
the  shoeman,  cautiously. 

"  Have  you — got  them  yet  ? "  asked  the  student. 

"Guess  so,"  said  the  man.  "Like  to  see  'cm?" 
He  pulled  up  his  horse. 

Gregory  faltered  a  moment.  Then  he  said,  "  I'd 
like  to  buy  them.  Quick ! "  He  looked  guiltily 


RAGGED    LADY.  65 

about,  while  the  shoeman  alertly  obeyed,  with  some 
delay  for  a  box  to  put  them  in.  "  How  much  are 
they  ?  " 

"  Well,  that's  a  custom  made  slipper,  and  the  price 
to  the  lady  that  oddid  'em  was  seven  dollas.  But  I'll 
let  you  have  'em  for  three — if  you  want  'em  for  a 
present."  The  shoeman  was  far  too  discreet  to  per 
mit  himself  anything  so  overt  as  a  smile ;  he  merely 
let  a  light  of  intelligence  come  into  his  face. 

Gregory  paid  the  money.  "  Please  consider  this  as 
confidential,"  he  said,  and  he  made  swiftly  away. 
Before  the  shoeman  could  lock  the  drawer  that  had 
held  the  slippers,  and  clamber  to  his  perch  under  the 
buggy -hood,  Gregory  was  running  back  to  him  again. 

"  Stop  ! "  he  called,  and  as  he  came  up  panting  in 
an  excitement  which  the  shoeman  might  well  have 
mistaken  for  indignation  attending  the  discovery  of 
some  blemish  in  his  purchase.  "  Do  you  regard  this 
as  in  any  manner  a  deception  ? "  he  palpitated. 

"  "Why,"  the  shoeman  began  cautiously,  "  it  wa'n't 
what  you  may  call  a  promise,  exactly.  More  of  a 
joke  than  anything  else,  I  looked  on  it.  I  just  said 
I'd  keep  'em  for  her ;  but " — 

"  You  don't  understand.  If  I  seemed  to  disapprove 
— if  I  led  any  one  to  suppose,  by  my  manner,  or  by 
— anything — that  I  thought  it  unwise  or  unbecoming 
to  buy  the  shoes,  and  then  bought  them  myself,  do 
you  think  it  is  in  the  nature  of  an  acted  falsehood  ? " 

"Lo'd  no!"  said  the  shoeman,  and  he  caught  up 
the  slack  of  his  reins  to  drive  on,  as  if  he  thought 
this  amusing  maniac  might  also  be  dangerous. 
E 


66  RAGGED    LADY. 

Gregory  stopped  him  with  another  question.  u  And 
shall — will  you — think  it  necessary  to  speak  of — of 
this  transaction  ?  I  leave  you  free  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  shoemari.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you're  after,  exactly,  but  if  you  think  I'm  so  sho't  on 
for  subjects  that  I've  got  to  tell  the  folks  at  the  next 
stop  that  I  sold  a  fellar  a  pair  of  slippas  for  his  gul 
— Go  'long !  "  he  called  to  his  horse,  and  left  Gregory 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 


VIII. 

THE  people  who  came  to  the  Middlemount  in  July 
were  ordinarily  the  nicest,  but  that  year  the  August 
folks  were  nicer  than  usual  and  there  were  some  stu 
dents  among  them,  and  several  graduates  just  going 
into  business,  who  chose  to  take  their  outing  there 
instead  of  going  to  the  sea-side  or  the  North  Woods. 
This  was  a  chance  that  might  not  happen  in  years 
again,  and  it  made  the  house  very  gay  for  the  young 
ladies;  they  ceased  to  pay  court  to  the  clerk,  and 
asked  him  for  letters  only  at  mail-time.  Five  or  six 
couples  w^ere  often  on  the  floor  together,  at  the  hops, 
and  the  young  people  sat  so  thick  upon  the  stairs  that 
one  could  scarcely  get  up  or  down. 

So  many  young  men  made  it  gay  not  only  for  the 
young  ladies,  but  also  for  a  certain  young  married 
lady,  Avhen  she  managed  to  shirk  her  rather  filial 
duties  to  her  husband,  who  was  much  about  the  ve 
randas,  purblindly  feeling  his  way  with  a  stick,  as  he 
walked  up  and  down,  or  sitting  opaque  behind  the 
glasses  that  preserved  what  was  left  of  his  sight,  while 
his  wife  read  to  him.  She  was  soon  acquainted  with 
a  good  many  more  people  than  he  knew,  and  was  in 


68  RAGGED    LADY. 

constant  request  for  such  occasions  as  needed  a  chap 
eron  not  averse  to  mountian  climbing,  or  drives  to 
other  hotels  for  dancing  and  supper  and  return  by 
moonlight,  or  the  more  boisterous  sorts  of  charades ; 
no  sheet  and  pillow  case  party  was  complete  without 
her;  for  welsh-rarebits  her  presence  was  essential. 
The  event  of  the  conflict  between  these  social  claims 
and  her  duties  to  her  husband  was  her  appeal  to  Mrs. 
Atwell  on  a  point  which  the  landlady  referred  to  Clem 
entina. 

"  She  wants  somebody  to  read  to  her  husband, 
and  I  don't  believe  but  what  you  could  do  it,  Clem. 
You're  a  good  reader,  as  good  as  I  want  to  hear,  and 
while  you  may  say  that  you  don't  put  in  a  great  deal 
of  elocution,  I  guess  you  can  read  full  well  enough. 
All  he  wants  is  just  something  to  keep  him  occupied, 
and  all  she  wants  is  a  chance  to  occupy  herself  with 
otha  folks.  Well,  she  is  moa  their  own  age.  I  d'know 
as  the's  any  hahm  in  her.  And  my  foot's  so  much 
betta,  now,  that  I  don't  need  you  the  whole  while,  any 
moa." 

"  Did  you  speak  to  her  about  me  ? "  asked  the  girl. 

"  Well,  I  told  her  I'd  tell  you.  I  couldn't  say  how 
you'd  like." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  should  like"  said  Clementina,  with 
her  eyes  shining.  "  I>ut — I  should  have  to  ask  mo- 
tha." 

"  I  don't  believe  but  what  your  motha'd  be  willin'," 
said  Mrs.  Atwell.  "  You  just  go  down  and  see  her 
about  it." 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Milray  was  able  to  take  leave 


RAGGED    LADY.  69 

of  her  husband,  in  setting  off  to  matronize  a  coaching 
party,  with  an  exuberance  of  good  conscience  that 
she  shared  with  the  spectators.  She  kissed  him  with 
lively  affection,  and  charged  him  not  to  let  the  child 
read  herself  to  death  for  him.  She  cautioned  Clem 
entina  that  Mr.  Milray  never  knew  when  he  was  tired, 
and  she  had  better  go  by  the  clock  in  her  reading,  and 
not  trust  to  any  sign  from  him. 

Clementina  promised,  and  when  the  public  had  fol 
lowed  Mrs.  Milray  away,  to  watch  her  ascent  to  the 
topmost  seat  of  the  towering  coach,  by  means  of  the 
ladder  held  in  place  by  two  porters,  and  by  help  of 
the  down-stretched  hands  of  all  the  young  men  on 
the  coach,  Clementina  opened  the  book  at  the  mark 
she  found  in  it,  and  began  to  read  to  Mr.  Milray. 

The  book  was  a  metaphysical  essay,  which  he  pro 
fessed  to  find  a  lighter  sort  of  reading  than  fiction ;  he 
said  most  novelists  were  too  seriously  employed  in 
preventing  the  marriage  of  the  lovers,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  to  be  amusing ;  but  you  could  always  trust  a 
metaphysician  for  entertainment  if  he  was  very  much 
in  earnest,  and  most  metaphysicians  were.  He  let 
Clementina  read  on  a  good  while  in  her  tender  voice, 
.which  had  still  so  many  notes  of  childhood  in  it,  be 
fore  he  manifested  any  consciousness  of  being  read 
to.  He  kept  the  smile  on  his  delicate  face  which  had 
come  there  when  his  wife  said  at  parting,  "  I  don't 
believe  I  should  leave  her  with  you  if  you  could  see 
how  prettty  she  was,"  and  lie  held  his  head  almost 
motionlessly  at  the  same  poise  he  had  given  it  in  list 
ening  to  her  final  charges.  It  was  a  fine  head,  still 


70  RAGGED    LADY. 

well  covered  with  soft  hair,  which  lay  upon  it  in  little 
sculpturesque  masses,  like  chiseled  silver,  and  the 
acquiline  profile  had  a  purity  of  line  in  the  arch  of 
the  high  nose  and  the  jut  of  the  thin  lips  and  delicate 
chin,  which  had  not  been  lost  in  the  change  from 
youth  to  age.  One  could  never  have  taken  it  for  the 
profile  of  a  New  York  lawyer  who  had  early  found 
New  York  politics  more  profitable  than  law,  and  after 
a  long  time  passed  in  city  affairs,  had  emerged  with 
a  name  shadowed  by  certain  doubtful  transactions. 
But  this  was  Milray's  history,  which  in  the  rapid  pro 
gress  of  American  events,  was  so  far  forgotten  that 
you  had  first  to  remind  people  of  what  he  had  helped 
do  before  you  could  enjoy  their  surprise  in  realizing 
that  this  gentle  person,  with  the  cast  of  intellectual 
refinement  which  distinguished  his  face,  was  the  no 
torious  Milray,  who  was  once  in  all  the  papers.  When 
he  made  his  game  and  retired  from  politics,  his  family 
would  have  sacrificed  itself  a  good  deal  to  reclaim  him 
socially,  though  they  were  of  a  severer  social  than  spir 
itual  conscience,  in  the  decay  of  some  ancestral  ideals. 
But  he  had  rendered  their  willingness  hopeless  by 
marrying,  rather  late  in  life,  a  young  girl  from  the 
farther  West  who  had  come  East  with  a  general  pur 
pose  to  get  on.  She  got  on  very  well  with  Milray,  and 
it  was  perhaps  not  altogether  her  own  fault  that  she 
did  not  get  on  so  well  with  his  family,  when  she  began 
to  substitute  a  society  aim  for  the  artistic  ambition 
that  had  brought  her  to  New  York.  They  might  have 
forgiven  hirn  for  marrying  her,  but  they  could  not 
forgive  her  for  marrying  him.  They  were  of  New 


RAGGED    LADY.  71 

England  origin  and  they  were  perhaps  a  little  more 
critical  with  her  than  if  they  had  been  New  Yorkers 
of  Dutch  strain.  They  said  that  she  was  a  little 
Western  hoyden,  but  that  the  stage  would  have  been 
a  good  place  for  her  if  she  could  have  got  over  her 
Pike  county  accent;  in  the  hush  of  family  councils 
they  confided  to  one  another  the  belief  that  there  were 
phases  of  the  variety  business  in  which  her  accent 
would  have  been  no  barrier  to  her  success,  since  it 
could  not  have  been  heard  in  the  dance,  and  might 
have  been  disguised  in  the  song. 

"  Will  you  kindly  read  that  passage  over  again  ?  " 
Milray  asked  as  Clementina  paused  at  the  end  of  a 
certain  paragraph.  She  read  it,  while  he  listened 
attentively.  "  Could  you  tell  me  just  what  you  under 
stand  by  that  ? "  he  pursued,  as  if  he  really  expected 
Clementina  to  instruct  him. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  before  she  answered,  "  I 
don't  believe  I  undastand  anything  at  all." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Milray,  "  that's  exactly  my 
own  case  ?  And  I've  an  idea  that  the  author  is  in  the 
same  box,"  and  Clementina  perceived  she  might  laugh, 
and  laughed  discreetly. 

Milray  seemed  to  feel  the  note  of  discreetness  in 
her  laugh,  and  he  asked,  smiling,  "  How  old  did  you 
tell  me  you  were  ?  " 

"  I'm  sixteen,"  said  Clementina. 

"  It's  a  great  age,"  said  Milray.  "  I  remember  be 
ing  sixteen  myself;  I  have  never  been  so  old  since. 
But  I  was  very  old  for  my  age,  then.  Do  you  think 
vou  are  ?" 


72  IIAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  am,"  said  Clementina,  laughing 
again,  but  still  very  discreetly. 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  tell  you  that  you  have  a 
very  agreeable  voice.  Do  you  sing?" 

"  No'm — no,  sir — no"  said  Clementina,  "  I  can't 
sing  at  all." 

"  Ah,  that's  very  interesting,"  said  Milray,  "  but  it's 
not  surprising.  I  wish  I  could  see  your  face  dis 
tinctly  ;  I've  a  great  curiosity  about  matching  voices 
and  faces ;  I  must  get  Mrs.  Milray  to  tell  me  how  you 
look.  Where  did  you  pick  up  your  pretty  knack  at 
reading  ?  In  school,  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Clementina.  "  Do  I 
read — the  way  you  want  ? " 

"  Oh,  perfectly.  You  let  the  meaning  come 
through — when  there  is  any." 

"Sometimes,"  said  Clementina  ingenuously,  "I 
read  too  fast ;  the  children  ah'  so  impatient  when  I'm 
reading  to  them  at  home,  and  they  hurry  me.  But 
I  can  read  a  great  deal  slower  if  you  want  me  to." 

"  No,  I'm  impatient,  too,"  said  Milray.  "  Are 
there  many  of  them, — the  children?" 

"  There  ah'  six  in  all." 

"  And  arc  you  the  oldest  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clementina.  She  still  felt  it  very 
blunt  not  to  say  sir,  too,  but  she  tried  to  make  her 
tone  imply  the  sir,  as  Mr.  Gregory  had  bidden  her. 

"  You've  got  a  very  pretty  name." 

Clementina  brightened.  "  Do  you  like  it  ?  Motha 
gave  it  to  me ;  she  took  it  out  of"  a  book  that  fatha 
was  reading  to  her." 


RAGGED    LADY.  73 

u  I  like  it  very  much,"  said  Milray.  "  Arc  you  tall 
for  your  age  ? " 

"  I  guess  I  am  pretty  tall." 

"  You're  fair,  of  course.  I  can  tell  that  by  your 
voice;  you've  got  a  light-haired  voice.  And  what  are 
your  eyes  ?  " 

"  Blue  !  "     Clementina  laughed  at  his  pursuit. 

"  Ah,  of  course  !  It  isn't  a  gray-eyed  blonde  voice. 
Do  you  think — has  anybody  ever  told  you — that  you 
wore  graceful?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  they  have,"  said  Clementina, 
after  thinking. 

"And  what  is  your  own  opinion?"  Clementina 
began  to  feel  her  dignity  infringed ;  she  did  not  an 
swer,  and  now  Milray  laughed.  "  I  felt  the  little  tilt 
in  your  step  as  you  came  up.  It's  all  right.  Shall 
we  try  for  our  friend's  meaning,  now  ? " 

Clementina  began  again,  and  again  Milray  stopped 
her.  "  You  mustn't  bear  malice.  I  can  hear  the 
grudge  in  your  voice ;  but  I  didn't  mean  to  laugh  at 
you.  You  don't  like  being  made  fun  of,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  anybody  does,"  said  Clementina. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Milray.  "  If  I  had  tried  such 
a  thing  I  should  be  afraid  you  would  make  it  uncom 
fortable  for  me.  But  I  haven't,  have  I  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina,  reluctantly. 

Milray  laughed  gleefully.  "Well,  you'll  forgive 
me,  because  I'm  an  old  fellow.  If  I  were  young,  you 
wouldn't,  would  you  ? " 

Clementina  thought  of  the  clerk ;  she  had  certainly 
never  forgiven  him.  "  Shall  I  read  on  I  "  she  asked. 


74  IIAGGED    LADY. 

"  Yes,  yes.  Read  on,"  he  said,  respectfully.  Once 
he  interrupted  her  to  say  that  she  pronounced  admir 
able,  but  he  would  like  now  and  then  to  differ  with 
her  about  a  word  if  she  did  not  mind.  She  answered, 
Oh  no,  indeed;  she  should  like  it  ever  so  much,  if  he 
would  tell  her  when  she  was  wrong.  After  that  he 
corrected  her,  and  he  amused  himself  by  studying 
forms  of  respect  so  delicate  that  they  should  not  alarm 
her  pride ;  Clementina  reassured  him  in  terms  as  fine 
as  his  own.  She  did  not  accept  his  instructions  im 
plicitly  ;  she  meant  to  bring  them  to  the  bar  of  Greg 
ory's  knowledge.  If  he  approved  of  them,  then  she 
would  submit. 

Milray  easily  possessed  himself  of  the  history  of 
her  life  and  of  all  its  circumstances,  and  he  said  he 
would  like  to  meet  her  father  and  make  the  acquaint 
ance  of  a  man  whose  mind,  as  Clementina  interpreted 
it  to  him,  he  found  so  original. 

He  authorized  his  wife  to  arrange  with  Mrs.  Atwell 
for  a  monopoly  of  Clementina's  time  while  he  stayed  at 
Middlemount,  and  neither  he  nor  Mrs.  Milray  seemed 
surprised  at  the  good  round  sum,  as  the  landlady 
thought  it,  which  she  asked  in  the  girl's  behalf. 


IX. 

THE  Milrays  stayed  through  August,  and  Mrs.  Milray 
was  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  great  holiday  of  the  sum 
mer,  at  Middlemount.  It  was  this  year  that  the  land 
lords  of  the  central  mountain  region  had  decided  to 
compete  in  a  coaching  parade,  and  to  rival  by  their 
common  glory  the  splendor  of  the  East  Side  and  the 
AYest  Side  parades.  The  boarding-houses  were  to 
take  part,  as  well  as  the  hotels ;  the  farms  where  only 
three  or  four  summer  folks  were  received,  were  to 
send  their  mountain-wagons,  and  all  were  to  be  deco 
rated  with  bunting.  An  arch  draped  with  flags  and 
covered  with  flowers  spanned  the  entrance  to  the 
main  street  at  Middlemount  Centre,  and  every  shop  in 
the  village  wras  adorned  for  the  event. 

Mrs.  Milray  made  the  landlord  tell  her  all  about 
coaching  parades,  and  the  champions  of  former  years 
on  the  East  Side  and  the  West  Side,  and  then  she 
said  that  the  Middlemout  House  must  take  the  prize 
from  them  all  this  year,  or  she  should  never  come 
near  his  house  again.  He  answered,  with  a  dignity 
and  spirit  he  rarely  showed  with  Mrs.  Milray's  class 
of  custom,  "  I'm  goin'  to  drive  our  hossis  myself." 


76  RAGGED    LADY. 

She  gave  her  whole  time  to  imagining-  and  organ 
izing  the  personal  display  on  the  coaeh.  She  eon- 
suited  with  the  other  ladies  as  to  the  kind  of  dresses 
that  were  to  be  worn,  but  she  decided  everything 
herself  ;  and  when  the  time  came  she  had  all  the  young 
men  ravaging  the  lanes  and  pastures  for  the  goldenrod 
and  asters  which  formed  the  keynote  of  her  decora 
tion  for  the  coach. 

She  made  peace  and  kept  it  between  factions  that 
declared  themselves  early  in  the  affair,  and  of  all  who 
could  have  criticized  her  for  taking  the  lead  perhaps 
none  would  have  willingly  relieved  her  of  the  trouble. 
She  freely  declared  that  it  was  killing  her,  and  she 
sounded  her  accents  of  despair  all  over  the  place. 
When  their  dresses  were  finished  she  made  the  per 
sons  of  her  drama  rehearse  it  on  the  coach  top  in  the 
secret  of  the  barn,  where  no  one  but  the  stable  men 
were  suffered  to  see  the  effects  she  aimed  at.  But 
on  the  eve  of  realizing  these  in  public  she  was  over 
whelmed  by  disaster.  The  crowning  glory  of  her 
composition  was  to  be  a  young  girl  standing  on  the 
highest  seat  of  the  coach,  in  the  character  of  the 
Spirit  of  Summer,  wreathed  and  garlanded  with  flow 
ers,  and  invisibly  sustained  by  the  twelve  months  of 
the  year,  equally  divided  as  to  sex,  but  with  the  more 
difficult  and  painful  attitudes  assigned  to  the  gentle 
men  who  were  to  figure  as  the  fall  and  winter  months. 
It  had  been  all  worked  out  and  the  actors  drilled  in 
their  parts,  when  the  Spirit  of  Summer,  who  had  been 
chosen  for  the  inoffensiveness  of  her  extreme  youth, 
was  taken  with  mumps,  and  withdrawn  by  the  doctor's 


RAGGED    LADY.  77 

orders.  Mrs.  Milray  had  now  not  only  to  improvise 
another  Spirit  of  Summer,  but  had  to  choose  her  from 
a  group  of  young  ladies,  with  the  chance  of  alienating 
and  embittering  those  who  were  not  chosen.  In  her 
calamity  she  asked  her  husband  what  she  should  do, 
without  the  least  hope  that  he  could  tell  her.  But  he 
answered  promptly,  "Take  Clementina;  I'll  let  you 
have  her  for  the  day,"  and  then  waited  for  the  storm 
of  her  renunciations  and  denunciations  to  spend  itself. 

"  To  be  sure,"  she  said,  when  this  had  happened, 
"  it  isn't  as  if  she  were  a  servant  in  the  house ;  and 
the  position  can  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  public  func 
tion,  anyhow.  I  can't  say  that  I've  hired  her  to  take 
the  part,  but  I  can  give  her  a  present  afterwards,  and 
it  will  be  the  same  thing." 

The  question  of  clothes  for  Clementina  Mrs.  Milray 
declared  was  almost  as  sweeping  in  its  implication  as 
the  question  of  the  child's  creation.  u  She  has  got  to 
be  dressed  new  from  head  to  foot,"  she  said,  "  every 
stitch,  and  how  am  I  to  manage  it  in  twenty-four 
hours?" 

By  a  succession  of  miracles  with  cheese-cloth,  and 
sashes  and  ribbons,  it  was  managed ;  and  ended  in  a 
triumph  so  great  that  Mrs.  Milray  took  the  girl  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her  for  looking  the  Spirit  of  Summer 
to  a  perfection  that  the  victim  of  the  mumps  could 
not  have  approached.  The  victory  was  not  lastingly 
marred  by  the  failure  of  Clementina's  shoes  to  look 
the  Spirit  of  Summer  as  well  as  the  rest  of  her  cos 
tume.  No  shoes  at  all  would  have  been  the  very 
thing,  but  shoes  so  shabby  and  worn  down  at  one  side 


78  RAGGED    LADY. 

of  the  heel  as  Clementina's  were  very  far  from  the 
thing.       Mrs.   Milray  decided    that    another    fold  of 
cheese-cloth  would  add  to  the  statuesque  charm  of 
her  figure,  and  give  her  more  height;  and  she  was 
richly  satisfied  with  the  effect  when  the  Middlemount 
coach  drove  up  to  the  great  veranda  the  next  morning, 
with  all  the  figures  of  her  picture  in  position  on  its 
roof,  and  Clementina  supreme  among  them.     She  her 
self  mounted  in  simple,  undramatized  authority  to  her 
official  seat  beside  the  landlord,  who  in  coachman's 
dress,  with  a  bouquet  of  autumnal  flowers  in  his  lapel, 
sat  holding  his  garlanded  reins  over  the  backs  of  his 
six  horses ;  and  then  the  coach  as  she  intended  it  to 
appear  in  the  parade  set  out  as  soon  as  the  turnouts 
of  the  other  houses  joined  it.     They  were  all  to  meet 
at  the  Middlemount,  which  was  thickly  draped  and 
festooned  in  flags,  with  knots  of  evergreen  and  the 
first  red  boughs  of  the  young  swamp  maples  holding 
them  in  place  over  its  irregular  fagade.     The  coach 
itself  was  a  mass  of  foliage  and  flowers,  from  which  it 
defined  itself  as  a  wheeled  vehicle  in  vague  and  partial 
outline ;  the  other  wagons  and  coaches,  as  they  drove 
tremulously  up,  with  an  effect  of  having  been  mired 
in  blossoms  about  their  spokes  and  hubs,  had  the  un- 
wieldiness  which  seems  inseparable  from  spectacular- 
ity.     They  represented  motives  in  color  and  design 
sometimes  tasteless  enough,  and  sometimes  so  nearly 
very  good  that  Mrs.   Milray's  heart  was  a  great  deal 
in  her  mouth,  as  they  arrived,  each  with  its  hotel-cry 
roared  and  shrilled    from  a  score  of  masculine  and 
feminine  throats,  and  finally  spelled  for  distinctness' 


RAGGED    LADY.  79 

sake,  with  an  ultimate  yell  or  growl.  But  she  had 
not  finished  giving  the  lady-representative  of  a  Sun 
day  newspaper  the  points  of  her  own  tableau,  before 
she  regained  the  courage  and  the  faith  in  which  she 
remained  serenely  steadfast  throughout  the  parade. 

It  was  when  all  the  equipages  of  the  neighborhood 
had  arrived  that  she  climbed  to  her  place ;  the  ladder 
was  taken  away ;  the  landlord  spoke  to  his  horses, 
and  the  Middleinount  coach  led  the  parade,  amid  the 
renewed  slogans,  and  the  cries  and  fluttered  handker 
chiefs  of  the  guests  crowding  the  verandas. 

The  line  of  march  was  by  one  road  to  Middlemount 
Centre,  where  the  prize  was  to  be  awarded  at  the 
judges'  stand,  and  then  the  coaches  were  to  escort  the 
triumphant  vehicle  homeward  by  another  route,  so  as 
to  pass  as  many  houses  on  the  way  as  possible.  It 
was  a  curious  expression  of  the  carnival  spirit  in  a 
region  immemorial  ly  starved  of  beauty  in  the  lives  of 
its  people ;  and  whatever  was  the  origin  of  the  moan- 
tain  coaching  parade,  or  from  whatever  impulse  of 
sentimentality  or  advertising  it  came,  the  effect  was  of 
undeniable  splendor,  and  of  phantasmagoric  strange 
ness. 

Gregory  watched  its  progress  from  a  hill-side  past 
ure  as  it  trailed  slowly  along  the  rising  and  falling 
road.  The  songs  of  the  young  girls,  interrupted  by 
the  explosion  of  hotel  slogans  and  college  cries  from 
the  young  men,  floated  off  to  him  on  the  thin  breeze 
of  the  cloudless  August  morning,  like  the  hymns  and 
shouts  of  a  saturnalian  rout  going  in  holiday  proces 
sional  to  sacrifice  to  their  gods.  Words  of  fierce 


80  HAGGED    LADY. 

Hebrew  poetry  burned  in  his  thought;  the  warnings 
and  the  accusals  and  the  condemnations  of  the  angry 
prophets ;  and  he  stood  rapt  from  his  own  time  and 
place  in  a  dream  of  days  when  the  Most  High  stooped 
to  commune  face  to  face  with  His  ministers,  while 
the  young  voices  of  those  forgetful  or  ignorant  of 
Him,  called  to  his  own  youth,  and  the  garlanded  char 
iots,  with  their  banners  and  their  streamers  passed  on 
the  road  beneath  him  and  out  of  sight  in  the  shadow 
of  the  woods  beyond. 

When  the  prize  was  given  to  the  Middlcmount 
coach  at  the  Center  the  landlord  took  the  flag,  and 
gallantly  transferred  it  to  Mrs.  Milray,  and  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray  passed  it  up  to  Clementina,  and  bade  her,  "Wave 
it,  wave  it !  " 

The  village  street  was  thronged  with  people  that 
cheered,  and  swung  their  hats  and  handkerchiefs  to 
the  coach  as  it  left  the  judges'  stand  and  drove  under 
the  triumphal  arch,  with  the  other  coaches  behind  it. 
Then  At  well  turned  his  horses  heads  homewards,  and 
at  the  brisker  pace  with  which  people  always  return 
from  festivals  or  from  funerals,  he  left  the  village  and 
struck  out  upon  the  country  road  with  his  long  escort 
before  him.  The  crowd  was  quick  to  catch  the  cour 
teous  intention  of  the  victors,  and  followed  them  with 
applause  as  far  beyond  the  village  borders  as  wind 
and  limb  would  allow;  but  the  last  noisy  boy  had 
dropped  off  breathless  before  they  reached  a  half-fin 
ished  house  in  the  edge  of  some  woods.  A  line  of 
little  children  was  drawn  up  by  the  road-side  before 
it,  who  watched  the  retinue  with  grave  eagerness,  till 


RAGGED    LADY.  81 

the  Middlemount  coach  came  in  full  sight.  Then 
they  sprang  into  the  air,  and  beating  their  hands  to 
gether,  screamed,  "-Clem!  Clem!  Oh  it's  Clem!" 
and  jumped  up  and  down,  and  a  shabby  looking  work- 
worn  woman  came  round  the  corner  of  the  house  and 
stared  up  at  Clementina  waving  her  banner  wildly  to 
the  children,  and  shouting  unintelligible  words  to 
them.  The  young  people  on  the  coach  joined  in  re 
sponse  to  the  children,  some  simply,  some  ironically, 
and  one  of  the  men  caught  up  a  great  wreath  of  flowers 
which  lay  at  Clementina's  feet,  and  flung  it  down  to 
them ;  the  shabby  woman  quickly  vanished  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  again.  Mrs.  Milray  leaned  over 
to  ask  the  landlord,  "  Who  in  the  world  are  Clemen 
tina's  friends? " 

"  Why  don't  you  know  ? "  he  retorted  in  a  bated 
voice.  "  Them's  her  brothas  and  sistas." 

"  And  that  woman  " — 

"  The  lady  at  the  conna?     That's  her  motlia." 

When  the  event  was  over,  and  all  the  things  had 
been  said  and  said  again,  and  there  was  nothing  more 
to  keep  the  spring  and  summer  months  from  going  up 
to  their  rooms  to  lie  dowrn,  and  the  fall  and  winter 
months  from  trying  to  get  something  to  eat,  Mrs. 
Milray  found  herself  alone  with  Clementina. 

The  child  seemed  anxious  about  something,  and 
Mrs.  Milray,  who  wanted  to  go  and  lie  down,  too, 
asked  a  little  impatiently,  "What  is  it,  Clementina?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.     Only  I  was  afraid  maybe  you  didn't 
like  my  waving  to  the  children,  when  you  saw  how 
queea  they  looked."     Clementina's  lips  quivered. 
F 


82  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Did  any  of  the  rest  say  anything  ? " 

"  I  know  what  they  thought.  But  I  don't  care  !  I 
should  do  it  right  over  again !  " 

Mrs.  Milray's  happiness  in  the  day's  triumph  was 
so  great  that  she  could  indulge  a  generous  emotion. 
She  caught  the  girl  in  her  arms.  "  I  want  to  kiss 
you ;  I  want  to  hug  you,  Clementina  !  " 


THE  notion  of  a  dance  for  the  following  night  to 
celebrate  the  success  of  the  house  in  the  coaching  pa 
rade  came  to  Mrs.  Milray  over  a  welsh-rarebit  which 
she  gave  at  the  close  of  the  evening.  The  party  was 
in  the  charge  of  Gregory,  who  silently  served  them  at 
their  orgy  with  an  austerity  that  might  have  conspired 
with  the  viand  itself  against  their  dreams,  if  they  had 
not  been  so  used  to  the  gloom  of  his  ministrations. 
He  would  not  allow  the  waitresses  to  be  disturbed  in 
their  evening  leisure,  or  kept  from  their  sleep  by  such 
belated  pleasures ;  and  when  he  had  provided  the  ma 
terials  for  the  rarebit,  he  stood  aloof,  and  left  their 
combination  to  Mrs.  Milray  and  her  chafing-dish. 

She  had  excluded  Clementina  on  account  of  her 
youth,  as  she  said  to  one  of  the  fall  and  winter  months, 
who  came  in  late,  and  noticed  Clementina's  absence 
with  a  "  Hello  !  Anything  the  matter  with  the  Spirit 
of  Summer?"  Clementina  had  become  both  a  pet 
and  a  joke  with  these  months  before  the  parade  was 
over,  and  now  they  clamored  together,  and  said  they 
must  have  her  at  the  dance  anyway.  They  were  more 
tepidly  seconded  by  the  spring  and  summer  months, 
and  Mrs.  Milray  said,  "  Well,  then,  you'll  have  to  all 


84  RAGGED    LADY. 

subscribe  and  get  her  a  pair  of  dancing  slippers." 
They  pressed  her  for  her  meaning,  and  she  had  to 
explain  the  fact  of  Clementina's  destitution,  which 
that  additional  fold  of  cheese-cloth  had  hidden  so  well 
in  the  coaching  tableau  that  it  had  never  been  sus 
pected.  The  young  men  entreated  her  to  let  them 
each  buy  a  pair  of  slippers  for  the  Spirit  of  Summer, 
which  she  should  wear  in  turn  for  the  dance  that  she 
must  give  each  of  them ;  and  this  made  Mrs.  Milray 
declare  that,  no,  the  child  should  not  come  to  the  dance 
at  all,  and  that  she  was  not  going  to  have  her  spoiled. 
But,  before  the  party  broke  up,  she  promised  that 
she  would  see  what  could  be  done,  and  she  put  it 
very  prettily  to  the  child  the  next  day,  and  waited 
for  her  to  say,  as  she  knew  she  must,  that  she  could 
not  go,  and  why.  They  agreed  that  the  cheese-cloth 
draperies  of  the  Spirit  of  Summer  were  surpassingly 
fit  for  the  dance ;  but  they  had  to  agree  that  this  still 
left  the  question  of  slippers  untouched.  It  remained 
even  more  hopeless  when  Clementina  tried  on  all  of 
Mrs.  Milray's  festive  shoes,  and  none  of  her  razor- 
points  and  high  heels  would  avail.  She  went  away 
disappointed,  but  not  yet  disheartened;  youth  does 
not  so  easily  renounce  a  pleasure  pressed  to  the  lips; 
and  Clementina  had  it  in  her  head  to  ask  some  of  the 
table  girls  to  help  her  out.  She  meant  to  try  first 
with  that  big  girl  who  had  helped  her  put  on  the  shoe- 
man's  bronze  slippers;  and  she  hurried  through  the 
office,  pushing  purblindly  past  Fane  without  looking 
his  way,  when  he  called  to  her  in  the  deference  which 
he  now  always  used  with  her,  "  Here's  a  package  here 


RAGGED    LADY.  85 

for  you,  Clementina — Miss  Claxon,"  and  lie  gave  her 
an  oblong  parcel,  addressed  in  a  hand  strange  to  her. 

"  Who  is  it  from  ?  "  she  asked,  innocently,  and  Fane 
replied  with  the  same  ingenuousness:  "I'm  sure  I 
don't  know."  Afterwards  he  thought  of  having  re 
torted,  "I  haven't  opened  it,"  but  still  without' being 
certain  that  he  would  have  had  the  courage  to  say  it. 

Clementina  did  not  think  of  opening  it  herself,  even 
when  she  was  alone  in  her  little  room  above  Mrs.  At- 
well's,  until  she  had  carefully  felt  it  over,  and  ascer 
tained  that  it  was  a  box  of  pasteboard,  three  or  four 
inches  deep  and  wide,  and  eight  or  ten  inches  long. 
She  looked  at  the  address  again,  "  Miss  Clementina 
Claxon,"  and  at  the  narrow  notched  ribbon  which  tied 
it,  and  noted  that  the  paper  it  was  wrapped  in  was 
very  white  and  clean.  Then  she  sighed,  and  loosed 
the  knot,  and  the  paper  slipped  off  the  box,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  lid  fell  off,  and  the  shoe  man's 
bronze  slippers  fell  out  upon  the  floor. 

Either  it  must  be  a  dream  or  it  must  be  a  joke;  it 
could  not  be  both  real  and  earnest ;  somebody  was 
trying  to  tease  her;  such  flattery  of  fortune  could  not 
be  honestly  meant.  But  it  went  to  her  head,  and  she 
was  so  giddy  with  it  as  she  caught  the  slippers  from 
the  floor,  and  ran  down  to  Mrs.  Atwell,  that  she 
knocked  against  the  sides  of  the  narrow  staircase. 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  Who  did  it  ?  " 
she  panted,  with  the  slippers  in  her  hand.  "  Whe'e 
did  they  come  from  ?  "  She  poured  out  the  history 
of  her  trying  on  these  shoes,  and  of  her  present  need 
of  them,  and  of  their  mysterious  coming,  to  meet  her 


86  RAGGED    LADY. 

longing  after  it  had  almost  ceased  to  be  a  hope.  Mrs. 
Atwell  closed  with  her  in  an  exultation  hardly  short 
of  a  clapping  the  hands.  Her  hair  was  gray,  and  the 
girl's  hair  still  hung  in  braids  down  her  back,  but  they 
were  of  the  same  age  in  their  transport,  which  they 
referred  to  Mrs.  Milray,  and  joined  with  her  in  glad 
but  fruitless  wonder  who  had  sent  Clementina  the 
shoes.  Mrs.  Atwell  held  that  the  help  who  had  seen 
the  girl  trying  them  on  had  clubbed  together  and  got 
them  for  her  at  the  time  ;  and  had  now  given  them  to 
her  for  the  honor  she  had  done  the  Middlemount 
House  in  the  parade.  Mrs.  Milray  argued  that  the 
spring  and  summer  months  had  secretly  dispatched 
some  fall  and  winter  month  to  ransack  the  stores  at 
Middlemount  Centre  for  them.  Clementina  believed 
that  they  came  from  the  shoe  man  himself,  who  had 
always  wanted  to  send  them,  in  the  hope  that  she 
would  keep  them,  and  had  merely  happened  to  send 
them  just  then  in  that  moment  of  extremity  when  she 
was  helpless  against  them.  Each  conjecture  involved 
improbabilities  so  gross  that  it  left  the  field  free  to 
any  opposite  theory. 

Rumor  of  the  fact  could  not  fail  to  go  through  the 
house,  and  long  before  his  day's  work  was  done  it 
reached  the  chef,  and  amused  him  as  a  piece  of  the 
Boss's  luck.  He  was  smoking  his  evening  pipe  at  the 
kitchen  door  after  supper,  when  Clementina  passed 
him  on  one  of  the  many  errands  that  took  her  between 
Mrs.  Milray's  room  and  her  own,  and  he  called  to  her: 
"  Boss,  what's  this  I  hear  about  a  pair  o'  glass  slippas 
droppin'  out  the  sky  int'  youa  lap  ?  " 


KAGGED    LADY.  87 

Clementina  was  so  happy  that  she  thought  she 
might  trust  him  for  once,  and  she  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  Mr. 
Mahtin  !  Who  do  you  suppose  sent  them  ? "  she  en 
treated  him  so  sweetly  that  it  would  have  softened 
any  heart  but  the  heart  of  a  tease. 

"  I  believe  I  could  give  a  pootty  good  guess  if  I 
had  the  facts." 

Clementina  innocently  gave  them  to  him,  and  he 
listened  with  a  well-affected  sympathy. 

"Say  Fane  fust  told  you  about  'em?" 

"  Yes.  *  He'e's  a  package  for  you,'  he  said.  Just 
that  way ;  and  he  couldn't  tell  me  who  left  it,  or  any 
thing." 

"  Anybody  asked  him  about  it  since  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  Mrs.  Milray,  and  Mrs.  Atwell,  and  Mr. 
Atwell,  and  everybody." 

"Everybody."  The  chef  smiled  with  a  peculiar 
droop  of  one  eye.  "  And  he  didn't  know  when  the 
slippas  got  into  the  landlo'd's  box  ? " 

"  Xo.  The  fust  thing  he  knew,  the'  they  we'e  !  " 
Clementina  stood  expectant,  but  the  chef  smoked  on 
as  if  that  were  all  there  was  to  say,  and  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  her.  "  Who  do  you  think  put  them 
thea,  Mr.  Mahtin?" 

The  chef  looked  up  as  if  surprised  to  find  her  still 
there.  "  Oh  !  Oh,  yes !  Who  d'  I  think  ?  Why,  I 
know,  Boss.  But  I  don't  believe  I'd  betta  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  do,  Mr.  Mahtin !  If  you  knew  how  I  felt 
about  it " — 

"  No,  no  !  I  guess  I  betta  not.  'Twouldn't  do  you 
any  good.  1  guess  I  won't  say  anything  moa.  But 


KAGGED    LADY. 

if  I  was  in  youa  place,  and  I  really  wanted  to  know 
wlie'e  them  slippas  come  from  " — 

"I  do — I  do  indeed"— 

The  chef  paused  before  he  added,  "  I  should  go  at 
Fane.  I  guess  what  he  don't  know  ain't  wo'th  know- 
in',  and  I  guess  nobody  else  knows  anything.  Thea ! 
I  don't  know  but  I  said  mo'n  I  ought,  now." 

What  the  chef  said  was  of  a  piece  with  what  had 
been  more  than  once  in  Clementina's  mind;  but  she 
had  driven  it  out,  not  because  it  might  not  be  true, 
but  because  she  would  not  have  it  true.  Her  head 
drooped;  she  turned  limp  and  springless  away.  Even 
the  heart  of  the  tease  was  touched ;  he  had  not  known 
that  it  would  worry  her  so  much,  though  he  knew 
that  she  disliked  the  clerk. 

"  Mind,"  he  called  after  her,  too  late,  "  I  ain't  got 
no  proof  't  he  done  it." 

She  did  not  answer  him,  or  look  round.  She  went 
to  her  room,  and  sat  down  in  the  growing  dusk  to 
think,  with  a  hot  lump  in  her  throat. 

Mrs.  Atwell  found  her  there  an  hour  later,  when 
she  climbed  to  the  chamber  where  she  thought  she 
ought  to  have  heard  Clementina  moving  about  over 
her  own  room. 

"  Didn't  know  but  I  could  help  you  do  youa  dress- 
in',"  she  began,  and  then  at  sight  of  the  dim  figure 
she  broke  off:  "  Why,  Clem  !  What's  the  matta?  Ah' 
you  asleep  ?  Ah'  you  sick  ?  It's  half  an  hour  of  the 
time  and  " — 

"  I'm  not  going,"  Clementina  answered,  and  she 
did  not  move. 


HAGGED    LADY.  89 

"  Xot  goin' !     Why  the  land  o' — " 

"  Oh,  I  can't  go,  Mrs.  Atwcll.  Don't  ask  me !  Tell 
Mrs.  Milray,  please  !  " 

"  I  will,  when  I  got  something  to  tell,"  said  Mrs. 
Atwell.  "  Now,  you  just  say  what's  happened,  Clem 
entina  Claxon  !  "  Clementina  suffered  the  woful  truth 
to  be  drawn  from  her.  "  But  you  don't  know  whether 
it's  so  or  not,"  the  landlady  protested. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  do  !  It  was  the  fust  thing  I  thought 
of,  and  the  chef  wouldn't  have  said  it  if  he  didn't  be 
lieve  it," 

"That's  just  what  he  would  done,"  cried  Mrs.  At 
well.  "  And  I'll  give  him  such  a  goin'  ova,  for  his 
teasin',  as  he  ain't  had  in  one  while.  He  just  said  it 
to  tease.  What  you  goin'  to  say  to  Mrs.  Milray  I " 

"  Oh,  tell  her  I'm  not  a  bit  well,  Mrs.  Atwell !  My 
head  does  ache,  truly." 

"  Why,  listen,"  said  Mrs.  Atwell,  recklessly.  "  If 
you  believe  he  done  it — and  he  no  business  to — why 
don't  you  just  go  to  the  dance,  in  'em,  and  then  give 
'em  back  to  him  after  it's  ova  ?  It  would  suv  him 
right." 

Clementina  listened  for  a  moment  of  temptation,  and 
then  shook  her  head.  "  It  wouldn't  do,  Mrs.  Atwell ; 
you  know  it  wouldn't,"  she  said,  and  Mrs.  Atwell  had 
too  little  faith  in  her  suggestion  to  make  it  prevail. 
She  went  away  to  carry  Clementina's  message  to  Mrs. 
Milray,  and  her  task  was  greatly  eased  by  the  increas 
ing  difficulty  Mrs.  Milray  had  begun  to  find,  since  the 
way  was  perfectly  smoothed  for  her,  in  imagining  the 
management  of  Clementina  at  the  dance :  neither  child 


90  RAGGED    LADY 

nor  woman,  neither  servant  nor  lady,  how  was  she  to 
be  carried  successfully  through  it,  without  sorrow  to 
herself  or  offence  to  others?  In  proportion  to  the 
relief  she  felt,  Mrs.  Milray  protested  her  irreconcilable 
grief ;  but  when  the  simpler  Mrs.  Atwell  proposed  her 
going  and  reasoning  with  Clementina,  she  said,  No, 
no ;  better  let  her  alone,  if  she  felt  as  she  did ;  and 
perhaps  after  all  she  was  right. 


XL 

CLEMENTINA  listened  to  the  music  of  the  dance,  till 
the  last  note  was  played ;  and  she  heard  the  gay  shouts 
and  laughter  of  the  dancers  as  they  issued  from  the 
ball  room  and  began  to  disperse  about  the  halls  and  ve 
randas,  and  presently  to  call  good  night  to  one  another. 
Then  she  lighted  her  lamp,  and  put  the  slippers  back 
into  the  box  and  wrapped  it  up  in  the  nice  paper  it 
had  come  in,  and  tied  it  with  the  notched  ribbon. 
She  thought  how  she  had  meant  to  put  the  slippers 
away  so,  after  the  dance,  when  she  had  danced  her  fill 
in  them,  and  how  differently  she  was  doing  it  all  now. 
She  wrote  the  clerk's  name  on  the  parcel,  and  then 
she  took  the  box,  and  descended  to  the  office  with  it. 
There  seemed  to  be  nobody  there,  but  at  the  noise  of 
her  step  Fane  came  round  the  case  of  letter-boxes, 
and  advanced  to  meet  her  at  the  long  desk. 

"  What's  wanted,  Miss  Claxon  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
his  hopeless  respectfulness.  "  Anything  I  can  do  for 
you  ? " 

She  did  not  answer,  but  looked  him  solemnly  in  the 


92  RAGGED    LADY. 

eyes  and  laid  the  parcel  down  on  the  open  register, 
and  then  went  out. 

He  looked  at  the  address  on  the  parcel,  and  when 
he  untied  it,  the  box  fell  open  and  the  shoes  fell  out 
of  it,  as  they  had  with  Clementina.  He  ran  with 
them  behind  the  letter-box  frame,  and  held  them  up 
before  Gregory,  who  was  seated  there  on  the  stool  he 
usually  occupied,  gloomily  nursing  his  knee. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  this  means,  Frank  ?  " 

Gregory  looked  at  the  shoes  frowningly.  "  They're 
the  slippers  she  got  to-day.  She  thinks  you  sent  them 
to  her." 

"  And  she  wouldn't  have  them  because  she  thought 
I  sent  them  !  As  sure  as  I'm  standing  here,  I  never 
did  it,"  said  the  clerk,  solemnly. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Gregory.      "  I  sent  them." 

"You!" 

"  What's  so  wonderful  ?  "  Gregory  retorted.  "  I 
saw  that  she  w anted  them  that  day  when  the  shoe 
peddler  was  here.  I  could  see  it,  and  you  could." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  went  across  into  the  woods,  and  the  man  overtook 
me  with  his  wagon.  I  was  tempted,  and  I  bought  the 
slippers  of  him.  I  wanted  to  give  them  to  her  then, 
but  I  resisted,  and  I  thought  I  should  never  give 
them.  To-day,  when  I  heard  that  she  was  going  to 
that  dance,  I  sent  them  to  her  anonymously.  That's 
all  there  is  about  it." 

The  clerk  had  a  moment  of  bitterness.  "  If  she'd 
known  it  was  you,  she  wouldn't  have  given  them 
back." 


KAGGED    LADY.  93 

"  That's  to  be  seen.  I  shall  tell  her,  now.  I  never 
meant  her  to  know,  but  she  must,  because  she's  doing 
you  wrong  in  her  ignorance." 

Gregory  was  silent,  and  Fane  was  trying  to  measure 
the  extent  of  his  own  suffering,  and  to  get  the  whole 
bearing  of  the  incident  in  his  mind.  In  the  end  his 
attempt  was  a  failure.  He  asked  Gregory,  "  And  do 
you  think  you've  done  just  right  by  me  ?  " 

"  I've  done  right  by  nobody,"  said  Gregory,  "  not 
even  by  myself ;  and  I  can  see  that  it  was  my  own 
pleasure  I  had  in  mind.  I  must  tell  her  the  truth, 
and  then  I  must  leave  this  place." 

"  I  suppose  you  want  I  should  keep  it  quiet,"  said 
Fane. 

**  I  don't  ask  anything  of  you." 

"And  she  wouldn't,"  said  Fane,  after  reflection. 
"  But  I  know  she'd  be  glad  of  it,  and  I  sha'n't  say 
anything.  Of  course,  she  never  can  care  for  me ;  and 
— there's  my  hand  with  my  wrord,  if  you  want  it." 
Gregory  silently  took  the  hand  stretched  toward  him 
and  Fane  added :  "  All  I'll  ask  is  that  you'll  tell  her  I 
wouldn't  have  presumed  to  send  her  the  shoes.  She 
wouldn't  be  mad  at  you  for  it." 

Gregory  took  the  box,  and  after  some  efforts  to 
speak,  he  went  away.  It  was  an  old  trouble,  an  old 
error,  an  old  folly ;  he  had  yielded  to  impulse  at  every 
step,  and  at  every  step  he  had  sinned  against  another 
or  against  himself.  What  pain  he  had  now  given  the 
simple  soul  of  Fane  ;  what  pain  he  had  given  that  poor 
child  who  had  so  mistaken  and  punished  the  simple 
soul !  AVith  Fane  it  was  over  now,  but  with  Clem- 


94  RAGGED    LADY. 

entina  the  worst  was  perhaps  to  come  yet.  He  could 
not  hope  to  see  the  girl  before  morning,  and  then, 
what  should  he  say  to  her  ?  At  sight  of  a  lamp  burn 
ing  in  Mrs.  Atwell's  room,  which  was  on  a  level  with 
the  veranda  where  he  was  walking,  it  came  to  him  that 
first  of  all  he  ought  to  go  to  her,  and  confess  the 
whole  affair ;  if  her  husband  were  with  her,  he  ought 
to  confess  before  him ;  they  were  there  in  the  place  of 
the  child's  father  and  mother,  and  it  was  due  to  them. 
As  he  pressed  rapidly  toward  the  light  he  framed  in 
his  thought  the  things  he  should  say,  and  he  did  not 
notice,  as  he  turned  to  enter  the  private  hallway  lead 
ing  to  Mrs.  Atwell's  apartment,  a  figure  at  the  door. 
It  shrank  back  from  his  contact,  and  he  recognized 
Clementina.  His  purpose  instantly  changed,  and  he 
said,  "  Is  that  you,  Miss  Claxon  ?  I  want  to  speak 
with  you.  Will  you  come  a  moment  where  I  can  ? " 

"  I— I  don't  know  as  I'd  betta,"  she  faltered.  But 
she  saw  the  box  under  his  arm,  and  she  thought  that 
he  wished  to  speak  to  her  about  that,  and  she  wanted 
to  hear  what  he  would  say.  She  had  been  waiting  at 
the  door  there,  because  she  could  not  bear  to  go  to 
her  room  without  having  something  more  happen. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid.  I  shall  not  keep  you — 
Come  with  me  a  moment.  There  is  something  I  must 
tell  you  at  once.  You  have  made  a  mistake.  And  it 
is  my  fault.  Come  !  " 

Clementina  stepped  out  into  the  moonlight  with 
him,  and  they  walked  across  the  grass  that  sloped  be 
tween  the  hotel  and  the  river.  There  were  still  peo 
ple  about,  late  smokers  singly  and  in  groups  along  the 


RAGGRD    LADY  95 

piazzas,  and  young  couples,  like  themselves,  strolling 
in  the  dry  air,  under  the  pure  sky. 

Gregory  made  several  failures  in  trying  to  begin, 
before  he  said :  "  I  have  to  tell  you  that  you  are  mis 
taken  about  Mr.  Fane.  I  was  there  behind  the  letter 
boxes  when  you  came  in,  and  I  know  that  you  left 
these  shoes  because  you  thought  he  sent  them  to  you. 
He  didn't  send  them."  Clementina  did  not  say  any 
thing,  and  Gregory  was  forced  to  ask :  "  Do  you  wish 
to  know  who  sent  them  ?  I  won't  tell  you  unless  you 
do  wish  it." 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  know,"  she  said,  and  she  asked, 
"  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  for  you  must  blame  some  one  else  now,  for 
what  you  thought  Fane  did.  /  sent  them  to  you." 

Clementina's  heart  gave  a  leap  in  her  breast,  and 
she  could  not  say  anything.  He  went  on. 

"  I  saw  that  you  wanted  them  that  day,  and  when 
the  peddler  happened  to  overtake  me  in  the  woods 
where  I  was  walking,  after  I  left  you,  I  acted  on  a 
sudden  impulse,  and  I  bought  them  for  you.  I  meant 
to  send  them  to  you  anonymously,  then.  I  had  com 
mitted  one  error  in  acting  upon  impulse — my  rashness 
is  my  besetting  sin — and  I  wished  to  add  a  species  of 
deceit  to  that.  But  I  was  kept  from  it  until — to-day. 
I  hoped  you  would  like  to  wear  them  to  the  dance 
to-night,  and  I  put  them  in  the  post-office  for  you 
myself.  Mr.  Fane  didn't  know  anything  about  it. 
That  is  all.  I  am  to  blame,  and  no  one  else." 

He  waited  for  her  to  speak,  but  Clementina  could 
only  say,  "I  don't  know  what  to  say." 


96  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  You  can't  say  anything  that  would  bo  punishment 
enough  for  me.  I  have  acted  foolishly,  cruelly." 

Clementina  did  not  think  so.  She  was  not  indig 
nant,  as  she  was  when  she  thought  Fane  had  taken 
this  liberty  with  her,  but  if  Mr.  Gregory  thought  it 
was  so  very  bad,  it  must  be  something  much  more 
serious  than  she  had  imagined.  She  said,  "  I  don't 
see  why  you  wanted  to  do  it,"  hoping  that  he  would 
be  able  to  tell  her  something  that  would  make  his 
behavior  seem  less  dreadful  than  he  appeared  to  think 
it  was. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  that  could  justify  it,  and 
that  is  something  that  I  cannot  justify."  It  was  very 
mysterious,  but  youth  loves  mystery,  and  Clementina 
was  very  young.  "  I  did  it,"  said  Gregory  solemnly, 
and  he  felt  that  now  he  was  acting  from  no  impulse, 
but  from  a  wisely  considered  decision  which  he  might 
not  fail  in  without  culpability,  "  because  I  love  you." 

"Oh  !  "  said  Clementina,  and  she  started  away  from 
him. 

"I  knew  that  it  would  make  me  detestable!"  he 
cried,  bitterly.  "  I  had  to  tell  you,  to  explain  what 
I  did.  I  couldn't  help  doing  it.  But  now  if  you  can 
forget  it,  and  never  think  of  me  again,  I  can  go  away, 
and  try  to  atone  for  it  somehow.  I  shall  be  guided." 

Clementina  did  not  know  why  she  ought  to  feel 
affronted  or  injured  by  what  he  had  said  to  her ;  but 
if  Mr.  Gregory  thought  it  was  wrong  for  him  to  have 
spoken  so,  it  must  be  wrong.  She  did  not  wish  him 
to  feel  badly,  even  if  he  had  done  wrong,  but  she  had 
to  take  his  view  of  what  he  had  done.  "  Why,  sut- 


HAGGED    LADY.  97 

tainly,  Mr.   Gregory,"  she  answered.      "  You  mustn't 
mind  it." 

lt  But  I  do  mind  it.  I  have  been  very,  very  selfish, 
very  thoughtless.  We  are  both  too  young.  I  can't 
ask  you  to  wait  for  me  till  I  could  marry  " — 

The  word  really  frightened  Clementina.  She  said, 
"  I  don't  believe  I  betta  promise." 

"  Oh,  I  know  it !  "  said  Gregory.  "  I  am  going 
away  from  here.  I  am  going  to-morrow  as  soon  as  I 
can  arrange — as  soon  as  I  can  get  away.  Good-night 
__[ " — Clementina  in  her  agitation  put  her  hands  up 
to  her  face.  "  Oh,  don't  cry — I  can't  bear  to  have 
you  cry." 

She  took  down  her  hands.  "  I'm  not  crying  !  But 
I  wish  I  had  neva  seen  those  slippas." 

They  had  come  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  whose 
current  quivered  at  that  point  in  a  scaly  ripple  in  the 
moonlight.  At  her  words  Gregory  suddenly  pulled 
the  box  from  under  his  arm,  and  flung  it  into  the 
stream  as  far  as  he  could.  It  caught  upon  a  shallow 
of  the  ripple,  hung  there  a  moment,  then  loosed  itself, 
and  swain  swiftly  down  the  stream. 

"  Oh  !  "  Clementina  moaned. 

"Do  you  want  them  back?"  he  demanded.  "I 
will  go  in  for  them  !  " 

"  No,  no  !     No.     But  it  seemed  such  a — waste  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  sin,  too."  They  climbed  silently 
to  the  hotel.  At  Mrs.  Atwell's  door,  he  spoke.  "  Try 
to  forget  what  I  said,  and  forgive  me,  if  you  can." 

"  Yes — yes,  I  will,    Mr.    Gregory.       You  mustn't 
think  of  it  any  moa." 
G 


XII. 

CLEMENTINA  did  not  sleep  till  well  toward  morning, 
and  she  was  still  sleeping  when  Mrs.  Atwell  knocked 
and  called  in  to  her  that  her  brother  Jim  wanted  to 
see  her.  She  •  hurried  down,  and  in  the  confusion  of 
mind  left  over  from  the  night  before  she  cooed  sweetly 
at  Jim  as  if  he  had  been  Mr.  Gregory,  "  What  is  it, 
Jim  ?  What  do  you  want  me  for  ?  " 

The  boy  answered  with  the  disgust  a  sister's  com 
pany  manners  always  rouse  in  a  brother.  "  Motha 
wants  you.  Says  she's  wo'ked  down,  and  she  wants 
you  to  come  and  help."  Then  he  went  his  way. 

Mrs.  Atwell  was  used  to  having  help  snatched  from 
her  by  their  families  at  a  moment's  notice.  "  I  pre 
sume  you've  got  to  go,  Clem,"  she  said. 

"  Oh;  yes,  I've  got  to  go,"  Clementina  assented, 
with  a  note  of  relief  which  mystified  Mrs.  Atwell. 

"  You  ti'ed  readin'  to  Mr.  Milray  ?  " 

•'  Oh,  no'm — no,  I  mean.  But  I  guess  I  betta  go 
home.  I  guess  I've  been  away  long  enough." 

"Well,  you're  a  good  gul,  Clem.  I  presume  your 
motha's  got  a  right  to  have  you  home  if  she  wants 
you."  Clementina  said  nothing  to  this,  but  turned 


RAGGED    LADY.  99 

briskly,  and  started  upstairs  toward  her  room  again. 
The  landlady  called  after  her,  "  Shall  you  speak  to 
Mis'  Milray,  or  do  you  want  I  should  ?  " 

Clementina  looked  back  at  her  over  her  shoulder  to 
warble,  "  Why,  if  you  would,  Mrs.  Atwell,"  and  kept 
on  to  her  room. 

Mrs.  Milray  was  not  wholly  sorry  to  have  her  go ; 
she  was  going  herself  very  soon,  and  Clementina's 
earlier  departure  simplified  the  question  of  getting  rid 
of  her;  but  she  overwhelmed  her  with  reproaches 
which  Clementina  received  with  such  sweet  sincerity 
that  another  than  Mrs.  Milray  might  have  blamed  her 
self  for  having  abused  her  ingenuousness. 

The  Atwells  could  very  well  have  let  the  girl  walk 
home,  but  they  sent  her  in  a  buckboard,  with  one  of 
the  stablemen  to  drive  her.  The  landlord  put  her 
neat  bundle  under  the  seat  of  the  buckboard  with  his 
own  hand.  There  was  something  in  the  child's  bear 
ing,  her  dignity  and  her  amiability,  which  made  peo 
ple  offer  her,  half  in  fun,  and  half  in  earnest,  the 
deference  paid  to  age  and  state. 

She  did  not  know  whether  Gregory  would  try  to 
see  her  before  she  went.  She  thought  he  must  have 
known  she  was  going,  but  since  he  neither  came  to 
take  leave  of  her,  nor  sent  her  any  message,  she  de 
cided  that  she  had  not  expected  him  to  do  so.  About 
the  third  week  of  September  she  heard  that  he  had 
left  Middlemount  and  gone  back  to  college. 

She  kept  at  her  work  in  the  house  and  helped  her 
mother,  and  looked  after  the  little  ones ;  she  followed 
her  father  in  the  woods,  in  his  quest  of  stuff  for  walking- 


100  KAGGED    LADY. 

sticks,  and  advised  with  both  concerning  the  taste  of 
summer  folks  in  dress  and  in  canes.  The  winter  came, 
and  she  read  many  books  in  its  long  leisure,  mostly 
novels,  out  of  the  rector's  library.  He  had  a  whole  set 
of  Miss  Edgeworth,  and  nearly  all  of  Miss  Austen  and 
Miss  Burney,  and  he  gave  of  them  to  Clementina,  as 
the  best  thing  for  her  mind  as  well  as  her  morals ;  he 
believed  nothing  could  be  better  for  any  one  than 
these  old  English  novels,  which  he  had  nearly  forgot 
ten  in  their  details.  She  colored  the  faded  English  life 
of  the  stories  afresh  from  her  Yankee  circumstance ; 
and  it  seemed  the  consensus  of  their  testimony  that 
she  had  really  been  made  love  to,  and  not  so  very 
much  too  soon,  at  her  age  of  sixteen,  for  most  of  their 
heroines  were  not  much  older.  The  terms  of  Greg 
ory's  declaraction  and  of  its  withdrawal  were  mystify 
ing,  but  not  more  mystifying  than  many  such  things, 
and  from  what  happened  in  the  novels  she  read,  the 
affair  might  be  trusted  to  come  out  all  right  of  itself 
in  time.  She  was  rather  thoughtfuller  for  it,  and 
once  her  mother  asked  her  what  was  the  matter  with 
her.  "  Oh,  I  guess  I'm  getting  old,  motha,"  she  said, 
and  turned  the  question  off.  She  would  not  have 
minded  telling  her  mother  about  Gregory,  but  it  would 
not  have  been  the  custom ;  and  her  mother  would  have 
worried,  and  would  have  blamed  him.  Clementina 
could  have  more  easily  trusted  her  father  with  the 
case,  but  so  far  as  she  knew  fathers  never  were  trusted 
with  anything  of  the  kind.  She  would  have  been 
willing  that  accident  should  bring  it  to  the  knowledge 
of  Mrs.  Richling ;  but  the  moment  never  came  when 


RAGGED    LADY.  101 

she  could  voluntarily  confide  in  her,  though  she  was  a 
great  deal  with  her  that  winter.  She  was  Mrs.  Richling's 
lieutenant  in  the  social  affairs  of  the  parish,  which 
the  rector's  wife  took  under  her  care.  She  helped 
her  get  up  entertainments  of  the  kind  that  could  be 
given  in  the  church  parlor,  and  they  managed  together 
some  dances  which  had  to  be  exiled  to  the  towrn  hall. 
They  contrived  to  make  the  young  people  of  the  vil 
lage  feel  that  they  were  having  a  gay  time,  and  Clem 
entina  did  not  herself  feel  that  it  was  a  dull  one.  She 
taught  them  some  of  the  new  steps  and  figures  which 
the  help  used  to  pick  up  from  the  summer  folks  at  the 
Middlemount,  and  practise  together;  she  liked  doing 
that;  her  mother  said  the  child  would  rather  dance 
than  eat,  any  time.  She  was  never  sad,  but  so  much 
dignity  got  into  her  sweetness  that  the  rector  now  and 
then  complained  of  feeling  put  down  by  her. 

She  did  not  know  whether  she  expected  Gregory  to 
write  to  her  or  not ;  but  when  no  letters  came  she  de 
cided  that  she  had  not  expected  them.  She  wondered 
if  he  would  come  back  to  the  Middlemount  the  next 
summer ;  but  when  the  summer  came,  she  heard  that 
they  had  another  student  in  his  place.  She  heard 
that  they  had  a  new  clerk,  and  that  the  boarders  were 
not  so  pleasant.  Another  year  passed,  and  towards 
the  end  of  the  season  Mrs.  Atwell  wished  her  to  come 
and  help  her  again,  and  Clementina  went  over  to  the 
hotel  to  soften  her  refusal.  She  explained  that  her 
mother  had  so  much  sewing  now  that  she  could  not 
spare  her  ;  and  Mrs.  Atwell  said :  Well,  that  was  right, 
and  that  she  must  be  the  greatest  kind  of  dependence 


102  RAGGED    LADY. 

for  her  mother.  "  You  ah'  going  on  seventeen  this 
year,  ain't  you  ? " 

"  I  was  nineteen  the  last  day  of  August,"  said 
Clementina,  and  Mrs.  Atwell  sighed,  and  said,  How 
the  time  did  fly. 

It  was  the  second  week  of  September,  but  Mrs.  At 
well  said  they  were  going  to  keep  the  house  open  till 
the  middle  of  October,  if  they  could,  for  the  autumnal 
foliage,  which  there  was  getting  to  be  quite  a  class  of 
custom  for. 

"  I  presume  you  knew  Mr.  Landa  was  dead,"  she 
added,  and  at  Clementina's  look  of  astonishment,  she 
said  with  a  natural  satisfaction,  "  Mm  !  died  the  thut- 
teenth  day  of  August.  I  presumed  somehow  you'd 
know  it,  though  you  didn't  see  a  great  deal  of  'em, 
come  to  think  of  it.  I  guess  he  was  a  good  man  ;  too 
good  for  her,  I  guess,"  she  concluded,  in  the  New 
England  necessity  of  blaming  some  one.  "  She  sent 
us  the  papah." 

There  was  an  early  frost ;  and  people  said  there  was 
going  to  be  a  hard  winter,  but  it  was  not  this  that 
made  Clementina's  father  set  to  work  finishing  his 
house.  His  turning  business  was  well  started,  now, 
and  he  had  got  together  money  enough  to  pay  for  the 
work.  He  had  lately  enlarged  the  scope  of  his  indus 
try  by  turning  gate-posts  and  urns  for  the  tops  of 
them,  which  had  become  very  popular,  for  the  front 
yards  of  the  farm  and  village  houses  in  a  wide  stretch 
of  country.  They  sold  more  steadily  than  the  smaller 
wares,  the  cups,  and  tops,  and  little  vases  and  platters 
which  had  once  been  the  output  of  his  lathe ;  after  the 


RAGGED    LADY.  103 

first  season  the  interest  of  the  summer  folks  in  these 
fell  off ;  but  the  gate  posts  and  the  urns  appealed  to  a 
lasting  taste  in  the  natives. 

Claxon  wished  to  put  the  finishing  touches  on  the 
house  himself,  and  he  was  willing  to  suspend  more 
profitable  labors  to  do  so.  After  some  attempts  at 
plastering  lie  was  forced  to  leave  that  to  the  plaster 
ers,  but  he  managed  the  clap-boarding,  with  Clemen 
tina  to  hand  him  boards  and  nails,  and  to  keep  him 
supplied  with  the  hammer  he  was  apt  to  drop  at  crit 
ical  moments.  They  talked  pretty  constantly  at  their 
labors,  and  in  their  leisure,  which  they  spent  on  the 
brown  needles  under  the  pines  at  the  side  of  the 
house.  Sometimes  the  hammering  or  the  talking 
would  be  interrupted  by  a  voice  calling,  from  a  pass 
ing  vehicle  in  the  hidden  roadway,  something  about 
urns.  Claxon  would  answer,  without  troubling  himself 
to  verify  the  inquirer,  or  moving  from  his  place,  that 
he  would  get  round  to  them,  and  then  would  hammer 
on,  or  talk  on  with  Clementina. 

One  day  in  October  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door,  after  the  work  on  the  house  had  been  carried  as 
far  as  Claxon's  mood  and  money  allowed,  and  he  and 
Clementina  were  picking  up  the  litter  of  his  carpen 
tering.  He  had  replaced  the  block  of  wood  which 
once  served  at  the  front  door  by  some  steps  under  an 
arbor  of  rustic  work ;  but  this  was  still  so  novel  that 
the  younger  children  had  not  outgrown  their  pride  in 
it  and  were  playing  at  house-keeping  there.  Clemen 
tina  ran  around  to  the  back  door  and  out  through  the 
front  entry  in  time  to  save  the  visitor  and  the  children 


104  RAGGED    LADY. 

from  the  misunderstanding  they  began  to  fall  into, 
and  met  her  with  a  smile  of  hospitable  brilliancy,  and 
a  recognition  full  of  compassionate  welcome. 

Mrs.  Lander  gave  way  to  her  tears  as  she  broke 
out,  "  Oh,  it  ain't  the  way  it  was  the  last  time  I  was 
hc'a  !  You  hea'd  that  he — that  Mr.  Landa  " — 

"Mrs.  Atwell  told  me,"  said  Clementina.  "Won't 
you  come  in,  and  sit  down  ? " 

"  Why,  yes."  Mrs.  Lander  pushed  in  through  the 
narrow  door  of  what  was  to  be  the  parlor.  Her  crapes 
swept  about  her  and  exhaled  a  strong  scent  of  their 
dyes.  Her  veil  softened  her  heavy  face ;  but  she  had 
not  grown  thinner  in  her  bereavement. 

"  I  just  got  to  the  Middlemount  last  night,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  wanted  to  see  you  and  your  payrents, 
both,  Miss  Claxon.  It  doos  bring  him  back  so !  You 
won't  neva  know  how  much  he  thought  of  you,  and 
you'll  all  think  I'm  crazy.  I  wouldn't  come  as  long 
as  he  was  with  me,  and  now  I  have  to  come  without 
him ;  I  held  out  ag'inst  him  as  long  as  I  had  him  to 
hold  out  ag'inst.  Not  that  he  was  eva  one  to  push, 
and  I  don't  know  as  he  so  much  as  spoke  of  it,  afta 
we  left  the  hotel  two  yea's  ago ;  but  I  presume  it 
wa'n't  out  of  his  mind  a  single  minute.  Time  and 
time  again  I'd  say  to  him,  '  Now,  Albe't,  do  you  feel 
about  it  just  the  way  you  done  ? '  and  he'd  say,  *  I 
ha'n't  had  any  call  to  change  my  mind  about  it,'  and 
then  I'd  begin  tryin'  to  ahgue  him  out  of  it,  and  keep 
a  hectorin',  till  he'd  say,  *  Well,  I'm  not  askin'  you  to 
do  it,'  and  that's  all  I  could  get  out  of  him.  But  I 
see  all  the  while  't  he  wanted  me  to  do  it,  whateva  he 


RAGGED    LADY.  105 

asked,  and  now  I've  got  to  do  it  when  it  can't  give 
him  any  pleasure."  Mrs.  Lander  put  up  her  black- 
bordered  handkerchief  and  sobbed  into  it,  and  Clem 
entina  waited  till  her  grief  had  spent  itself ;  then  she 
gave  her  a  fan,  and  Mrs.  Lander  gratefully  cooled  her 
hot  wet  face.  The  children  had  found  the  noises  of 
her  affliction  and  the  turbid  tones  of  her  monologue 
annoying,  and  had  gone  off  to  play  in  the  woods ; 
Claxon  kept  incuriously  about  the  work  that  Clemen 
tina  had  left  him  to  ;  his  wife  maintained  the  confi 
dence  which  she  always  felt  in  Clementina's  ability  to 
treat  with  the  world  when  it  presented  itself,  and 
though  she  was  curious  enough,  she  did  not  offer  to 
interrupt  the  girl's  interview  with  Mrs.  Lander  ;  Clem 
entina  would  know  how  to  behave. 

Mrs.  Lander,  when  she  had  refreshed  herself  with 
the  fan,  seemed  to  get  a  fresh  grip  of  her  theme,  and 
she  told  Clementina  all  about  Mr.  Lander's  last  sick 
ness.  It  had  been  so  short  that  it  gave  her  no  time 
to  try  the  climate  of  Colorado  upon  him,  which  she 
now  felt  sure  would  have  brought  him  right  up  ;  and 
she  had  remembered,  when  too  late,  to  give  him  a 
liver-medicine  of  her  own,  though  it  did  not  appear 
that  it  was  his  liver  which  was  affected ;  that  was  the 
strange  part  of  it.  But,  brief  as  his  sickness  was,  he 
had  felt  that  it  was  to  be  his  last,  and  had  solemnly 
talked  over  her  future  with  her,  which  he  seemed  to 
think  would  be  lonely.  He  had  not  named  Clemen 
tina,  but  Mrs.  Lander  had  known  well  enough  what  he 
meant ;  and  now  she  wished  to  ask  her,  and  her  father 
and  mother,  how  they  would  all  like  Clementina  to 


106  RAGGED    LADY. 

come  and  spend  the  winter  with  her  at  Boston  first, 
and  then  further  South,  and  wherever  she  should 
happen  to  go.  She  apologized  for  not  having  come 
sooner  upon  this  errand ;  she  had  resolved  upon  it  as 
soon  as  Mr.  Lander  was  gone,  but  she  had  been  sick 
herself,  and  had  only  just  now  got  out  of  bed. 

Clementina  was  too  young  to  feel  the  pathos  of  the 
case  fully,  or  perhaps  even  to  follow  the  tortuous 
course  of  Mrs.  Lander's  motives,  but  she  was  moved 
by  her  grief ;  and  she  could  not  help  a  thrill  of  pleas 
ure  in  the  vague  splendor  of  the  future  outlined  by 
Mrs.  Lander's  proposal.  For  a  time  she  had  thought 
that  Mrs.  Milray  was  going  to  ask  her  to  visit  her  in 
New  York  ;  Mrs.  Milray  had  thrown  out  a  hint  of 
something  of  the  kind  at  parting,  but  that  was  the 
last  of  it ;  and  now  she  at  once  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  would  like  to  go  with  Mrs.  Lander,  while 
discreetly  saying  that  she  would  ask  her  father  and 
mother  to  come  and  talk  with  her. 


XIII. 

HER  parents  objected  to  leaving  their  work;  each 
suggested  that  the  other  had  better  go ;  but  they  both 
came  at  Clementina's  urgence.  Her  father  laughed 
and  her  mother  frowned  when  she  told  them  what 
Mrs.  Lander  wanted,  from  the  same  misgiving  of  her 
sanity.  They  partly  abandoned  this  theory  for  a  con 
viction  of  Mrs.  Lander's  mere  folly  when  she  began  to 
talk,  and  this  slowly  yielded  to  the  perception  that  she 
had  some  streaks  of  sense.  It  was  sense  in  the  first 
place  to  want  to  have  Clementina  with  her,  and  though 
it  might  not  be  sense  to  suppose  that  they  would  be 
anxious  to  let  her  go,  they  did  not  find  so  much  want 
of  it  as  Mrs.  Lander  talked  on.  It  was  one  of  her 
necessities  to  talk  away  her  emotions  before  arriving 
at  her  ideas,  which  were  often  found  in  a  tangle,  but 
were  not  without  a  certain  propriety.  She  was  now, 
after  her  interview  with  Clementina,  in  the  immediate 
presence  of  these,  and  it  was  her  ideas  that  she  began 
to  produce  for  the  girl's  father  and  mother.  She  said, 
frankly,  that  she  had  more  money  than  she  knew  what 
to  do  with,  and  they  must  not  think  she  supposed  she 
was  doing  a  favor,  for  she  was  really  asking  one. 


108  TCAGGED    LADY. 

She  was  alone  in  the  world,  without  near  connections 
of  her  own,  or  relatives  of  her  husband's,  and  it  would 
be  a  mercy  if  they  could  let  their  daughter  come  and 
visit  her;  she  would  not  call  it  more  than  a  visit;  that 
would  be  the  best  thing  on  both  sides;  she  told  of  her 
great  fancy  for  Clementina  the  first  time  she  saw  her, 
and  of  her  husband's  wish  that  she  would  come  and 
visit  with  them  then  for  the  winter.  As  for  that 
money  she  had  tried  to  make  the  child  take,  she  pre 
sumed  that  they  knew  about  it,  and  she  wished  to  say 
that  she  did  it  because  she  was  afraid  Mr.  Lander  had 
said  so  much  about  the  sewing,  that  they  would  be 
disappointed.  She  gave  way  to  her  tears  at  the  rec 
ollection,  and  confessed  that  she  wanted  the  child  to 
have  the  money  anyway.  She  ended  by  asking  Mrs. 
Claxon  if  she  would  please  to  let  her  have  a  drink  of 
water;  and  she  looked  about  the  room,  and  said  that 
they  had  got  it  finished  up  a  great  deal,  now,  had  not 
they  ?  She  made  other  remarks  upon  it,  so  apt  that 
Mrs.  Claxon  gave  her  a  sort  of  permissive  invitation 
to  look  about  the  whole  lower  floor,  ending  with  the 
kitchen. 

Mrs.  Lander  sat  down  there  while  Mrs.  Claxon  drew 
from  the  pipes  a  glass  of  water,  which  she  proudly 
explained  was  pumped  all  over  the  house  by  the  windi 
mill  that  supplied  the  power  for  her  husband's  turn 
ing  lathes. 

"Well,  I  wish  my  husband  could  have  tasted  tha 
wata,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  as  if  reminded  of  husband^, 
by  the  word,  and  by  the  action  of  putting  down  th< 
glass.      "  He  was  always  such  a  great  hand  for  good, 


RAGGED    LADY.  109 

cold  wata.  My  !  He'd  'a  liked  youa  kitchen,  Mrs, 
Claxon.  He  always  was  such  a  home-body,  and  he 
did  get  so  ti'ed  of  hotels.  For  all  he  had  such  an 
appearance,  when  you  see  him,  of  bein' — well ! — stiff 
and  proud,  he  was  fall  moa  common  in  his  tastes — I 
don't  mean  common,  exactly,  eitha — than  what  I  was ; 
and  many  a  time  when  we'd  be  drivin'  through  the 
country,  and  we'd  pass  some  o'  them  long-strung-out 
houses,  don't  you  know,  with  the  kitchen  next  to  the 
wood  shed,  and  then  an  ahchway  bef  oa  you  get  to  the 
stable,  Mr.  Landa  he'd  get  out,  and  make  an  urrand, 
just  so's  to  look  in  at  the  kitchen  dooa ;  he  said  it 
made  him  think  of  his  own  motha's  kitchen.  We  was 
both  brought  up  in  the  country,  that's  a  fact,  and  I 
guess  if  the  truth  was  known  we  both  expected  to 
settle  down  and  die  thea,  some  time ;  but  now  he's 
gone,  and  I  don't  know  what'll  become  o'  me,  and 
sometimes  I  don't  much  care.  I  guess  if  Mr.  Landa  'd 
'a  seen  youa  kitchen,  it  wouldn't  'a'  been  so  easy  to 
git  him  out  of  it ;  and  I  do  believe  if  he's  livin'  any- 
whe'  now  he  takes  as  much  comfo't  in  my  settin' 
here  as  w-hat  I  do.  I  presume  1  shall  settle  dowTn 
somewhe's  before  a  great  while,  and  if  you  could  make 
up  youa  mind  to  let  your  daughta  come  to  me  for  a 
ittle  visit  till  spring,  you  couldn't  do  a  thing  that  'd 
\lease  Mr.  Landa  moa." 

Mrs.  Claxon  said  that  she  would  talk  it  over  with 

Jie  child's  father ;  and  then  Mrs.  Lander  pressed  her 

>  let  her  take  Clementina  back  to  the  Middlemount 

*ith  her  for  supper,  if  they  wouldn't  let  her  stay  the 

•right.  After  Clementina  had  driven  away,  Mrs.  Claxon 


110  RAGGED    LADY. 

accused  herself  to  her  husband  of  being  the  greatest 
fool  in  the  State,  but.  he  said  that  the  carriage  was 
one  of  the  Middlemount  rigs,  and  he  guessed  it  was 
all  right.  He  could  see  that  Clem  was  wild  to  go,  and 
he  didn't  see  why  she  shouldn't. 

"  Well,  /  do,  then,"  his  wife  retorted.  "  We  don't 
know  anything  about  the  woman,  or  who  she  is." 

"  I  guess  no  harm'll  come  to  Clem  for  one  night," 
said  Claxon,  and  Mrs.  Claxon  was  forced  back  upon 
the  larger  question  for  the  maintenance  of  her  anxiety. 
She  asked  what  he  was  going  to  do  about  letting  Clem 
go  the  whole  winter  with  a  perfect  stranger ;  and  he 
answered  that  he  had  not  got  round  to  that  yet,  and 
that  there  were  a  good  many  things  to  be  thought  of 
first.  He  got  round  to  see  the  rector  before  dark,  and 
in  the  light  of  his  larger  horizon,  was  better  able  to 
orient  Mrs.  Lander  and  her  motives  than  he  had  been 
before. 

When  she  came  back  with  the  girl  the  next  morn 
ing,  she  had  thought  of  something  in  the  nature  of 
credentials.  It  was  the  letter  from  her  church  in 
Boston,  which  she  took  whenever  she  left  home,  so 
that  if  she  wished  she  might  unite  with  the  church  in 
any  place  where  she  happened  to  be  stopping.  It  did 
not  make  a  great  impression  upon  the  Claxons,  who 
were  of  no  religion,  though  they  allowed  their  children 
to  go  to  the  Episcopal  church  and  Sunday-school,  and 
always  meant  to  go  themselves.  They  said  they  would 
like  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  the  rector,  if  Mrs. 
Lander  did  not  object;  she  offered  to  send  her  carri 
age  for  him,  and  the  rector  was  brought  at  once. 


i'. 

11AGGED    LADY.  Ill 

He  was  one  of  those  men  who  have,  in  the  breaking 
down  of  the  old  Puritanical  faith,  and  the  dying  out  of 
the  later  Unitarian  rationalism,  advanced  and  establish 
ed  the  Anglican  church  so  notably  in  the  New  England 
hill-country,  by  a  wise  conformity  to  the  necessities 
and  exactions  of  the  native  temperament.  On  the 
ecclesiastical  side  he  was  conscientiously  uncomprom 
ising,  but  personally  he  was  as  simple-mannered  as 
he  was  simple-hearted.  He  was  a  tall  lean  man  in 
rusty  black,  with  a  clerical  waistcoat  that  buttoned 
high,  and  scholarly  glasses,  but  with  a  belated  straw 
hat  that  had  counted  more  than  one  summer,  and  a 
farmer's  tan  on  his  face  and  hands.  He  pronounced 
the  church-letter,  though  quite  outside  of  his  own 
church,  a  document  of  the  highest  respectability,  and 
he  listened  with  patient  deference  to  the  autobiogra 
phy  which  Mrs.  Lander  poured  out  upon  him,  and  her 
identifications,  through  reference  to  this  or  that  per 
son  in  Boston  whom  he  knew  either  at  first  or  second 
hand.  He  had  not  to  pronounce  upon  her  syntax,  or 
her  social  quality ;  it  wras  enough  for  him,  in  behalf  of 
the  Claxons,  to  find  her  what  she  professed  to  be. 

"  You  must  think,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  that  we  are 
over-particular ;  but  the  fact  is  that  we  value  Clemen 
tina  rather  highly,  and  we  wish  to  be  sure  that  your 
hospitable  offer  will  be  for  her  real  good." 

"  Of  cou'se,"  said  Mrs.  Lander.  "  I  should  be  just 
so  myself  about  her." 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  continued,  "  that  I've  ever  said 
how  much  we  think  of  her,  Mrs.  Richling  and  I,  but 
this  seems  a  good  opportunity,  as  she  is  not  present. 


112  KAGGED    LADY. 

She  is  not  perfect,  but  she  comes  as  near  being  a 
thoroughly  good  girl  as  she  can  without  knowing  it. 
She  has  a  great  deal  of  common-sense,  and  we  all  want 
her  to  have  the  best  chance." 

"  Well,  that's  just  the  way  I  feel  about  her,  and 
that's  just  what  I  mean  to  give  her,"  said  Mrs.  Lan 
der. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  make  myself  quite  clear," 
said  the  rector.  "  I  mean,  a  chance  to  prove  how 
useful  and  helpful  she  can  be.  Do  you  think  you  can 
make  life  hard  for  her  occasionally  ?  Can  you  be 
peevish  and  exacting,  and  unreasonable  ?  Can  you  do 
something  to  make  her  value  superfluity  and  luxury  at 
their  true  worth  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lander  looked  a  little  alarmed  and  a  little 
offended.  "I  don't  know  as  I  undastand  what  you 
mean,  exactly,"  she  said,  frowning  rather  with  per 
plexity  than  resentment.  "  But  the  child  sha'n't  have 
a  care,  and  her  own  motha  couldn't  be  betta  to  her 
than  me.  There  a'n't  anything  money  can  buy  that 
she  sha'n't  have,  if  she  wants  it,  and  all  I'll  ask  of  her 
is  't  she'll  enjoy  herself  as  much  as  she  knows  how. 
I  want  her  with  me  because  I  should  love  to  have  her 
round;  and  we  did  from  the  very  fust  minute  she 
spoke,  Mr.  Lander  and  me,  both.  She  shall  have  her 
own  money,  and  spend  it  for  anything  she  pleases, 
and  she  needn't  do  a  stitch  o'  work  from  mohnin'  till 
night.  But  if  you're  afraid  I  shall  put  upon  her  " — 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  rector,  and  he  threw  back  his 
head  with  a  laugh. 

When  it  was  all  arranged,  a  few  days  later,  after 


RAGGED    LADY.  113 

the  verification  of  certain  of  Mrs.  Lander's  references 
by  letters  to  Boston,  lie  said  to  Clementina's  father 
and  mother,  "  There's  only  one  danger,  now,  and  that 
is  that  she  will  spoil  Clementina ;  but  there's  a  reason 
able  hope  that  she  won't  know  how."  He  found 
the  Claxons  struggling  with  a  fresh  misgiving,  which 
Claxon  expressed.  "  The  way  I  look  at  it  is  like  this. 
I  don't  want  that  woman  should  eva  think  Clem  was 
after  her  money.  On  the  face  of  it  there  a'n't  very 
much  to  her  that  would  make  anybody  think  but  what 
we  was  after  it ;  and  I  should  want  it  pootty  well  un- 
dastood  that  we  wa'n't  that  kind.  But  I  don't  seem 
to  see  any  way  of  tellin'  her." 

"  No,"  said  the  rector,  with  a  sympathetic  twinkle, 
"that  would  be  difficult." 

"  It's  plain  to  be  seen,"  Mrs.  Claxon  interposed, 
"  that  she  thinks  a  good  deal  of  her  money ;  and  I 
d'  know  but  what  she'd  think  she  was  doin'  Clem  most 
too  much  of  a  favor  anyway.  If  it  can't  be  a  puf- 
fectly  even  thing,  all  round,  I  d'  know  as  I  should 
want  it  to  be  at  all." 

"  You're  quite  right,  Mrs.  Claxon,  quite  right.  But 
I  believe  Mrs.  Lander  may  be  safely  left  to  look  out 
for  her  own  interests.  After  all,  she  has  merely  asked 
Clementina  to  pass  the  winter  with  her.  It  will  be  a 
good  opportunity  for  her  to  see  something  of  the 
world ;  and  perhaps  it  may  bring  her  the  chance  of 
placing  herself  in  life.  We  have  got  to  consider  these 
things  with  reference  to  a  young  girl." 

Mrs.  Claxon  said,  "  Of  cou'se,"  but  Claxon  did  not 
assent  so  readily. 
H 


114  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  should  want  Clem  to  look  at  it 
in  that  light.  If  the  chance  don't  come  to  her,  I 
don't  want  she  should  go  huntin'  round  for  it." 

"I  thoroughly  agree  with  you,"  said  the  rector. 
"  But  I  was  thinking  that  there  was  not  only  no  chance 
worthy  of  her  in  Middlemount,  but  there  is  no  chance 
at  all." 

"  I  guess  that's  so,"  Claxon  owned  with  a  laugh. 
"  Well,  I  guess  we  can  leave  it  to  Clem  to  do  what's 
right  and  proper  everyway.  As  you  say,  she's  got 
lots  of  sense." 

From  that  moment  he  emptied  his  mind  of  care  con 
cerning  the  matter ;  but  husband  and  wife  are  never 
both  quite  free  of  care  on  the  same  point  of  common 
interest,  and  Mrs.  Claxon  assumed  more  and  more  of 
the  anxieties  which  he  had  abandoned.  She  fretted 
under  the  load,  and  expressed  an  exasperated  tender 
ness  for  Clementina  when  the  girl  seemed  forgetful  of 
any  of  the  little  steps  to  be  taken  before  the  great 
one  in  getting  her  clothes  ready  for  leaving  home. 
She  said  finally  that  she  presumed  they  were  doing  a 
wild  thing,  and  that  it  looked  crazier  and  crazier  the 
more  she  thought  of  it ;  but  all  was,  if  Clem  didn't 
like,  she  could  come  home.  By  this  time  her  husband 
was  in  something  of  that  insensate  eagerness  to  have 
the  affair  over  that  people  feel  in  a  house  where  there 
is  a  funeral. 

At  the  station,  when  Clementina  started  for  Boston 
with  Mrs.  Lander,  her  father  and  mother,  with  the 
rector  and  his  wife,  came  to  see  her  off.  Other  friends 
mistakenly  made  themselves  of  the  party,  and  kept 


RAGGED    LADY.  115 

her  talking  vacuities  when  her  heart  was  full,  till  the 
train  drew  up.  Her  father  went  with  her  into  the 
parlor  car,  where  the  porter  of  the  Middlemount  House 
set  down  Mrs.  Lander's  hand  baggage  and  took  the 
final  fee  she  thrust  upon  him.  When  Claxon  came 
out  he  was  not  so  satisfactory  about  the  car  as  he 
might  have  been  to  his  wife,  who  had  never  been  in 
side  a  parlor  car,  and  who  had  remained  proudly  in 
the  background,  where  she  could  not  see  into  it  from 
the  outside.  He  said  that  he  had  felt  so  bad  about 
Clem  that  he  did  not  notice  what  the  car  was  like. 
But  he  was  able  to  report  that  she  looked  as  well  as 
any  of  the  folks  in  it,  and  that,  if  there  were  any  bet 
ter  dressed,  he  did  not  see  them.  He  owned  that  she 
cried  some,  when  he  said  good-bye  to  her. 

"  I  guess,"  said  his  wife,  grimly,  "  we're  a  passel  o' 
fools  to  let  her  go.  Even  if  she  don't  like,  the'a, 
with  that  crazy-head,  she  won't  be  the  same  Clem 
when  she  comes  back." 

They  were  too  heavy-hearted  to  dispute  much,  and 
were  mostly  silent  as  they  drove  home  behind  Claxon's 
self -broken  colt:  a  creature  that  had  taken  voluntarily 
to  harness  almost  from  its  birth,  and  was  an  example 
to  its  kind  in  sobriety  and  industry. 

The  children  ran  out  from  the  house  to  meet  them, 
with  a  story  of  having  seen  Clem  at  a  point  in  the 
woods  where  the  train  always  slowed  up  before  a 
crossing,  and  where  they  had  all  gone  to  wait  for  her. 
She  had  seen  them  through  the  car-window,  and  had 
come  out  on  the  car  platform,  and  waved  her  hand 
kerchief,  as  she  passed,  and  called  something  to  them, 


116  RAGGED    LADY. 

but  they  could  not  hear  what  it  was,  they  were  all 
cheering  so. 

At  this  their  mother  broke  down,  and  went  crying 
into  the  house.  Not  to  have  had  the  last  words  of 
the  child  whom  she  should  never  see  the  same  again 
if  she  ever  saw  her  at  all,  was  more,  she  said,  than 
heart  could  bear. 

The  rector's  wife  arrived  home  with  her  husband  in 
a  mood  of  mounting  hopefulness,  which  soared  to  tops 
commanding  a  view  of  perhaps  more  of  this  world's 
kingdoms  than  a  clergyman's  wife  ought  ever  to  see, 
even  for  another.  She  decided  that  Clementina's 
chances  of  making  a  splendid  match,  somewhere,  were 
about  of  the  nature  of  certainties,  and  she  contended 
that  she  would  adorn  any  station,  with  experience, 
and  with  her  native  tact,  especially  if  it  were  a  very 
high  station  in  Europe,  where  Mrs.  Lander  would 
now  be  sure  to  take  her.  If  she  did  not  take  her  to 
Europe,  however,  she  would  be  sure  to  leave  her  all 
her  money,  and  this  would  serve  the  same  end,  though 
more  indirectly. 

Mr.  Bichling  scoffed  at  this  ideal  of  Clementina's 
future  with  a  contempt  which  was  as  little  becoming 
to  his  cloth.  He  made  his  wife  reflect  that,  with  all 
her  inherent  grace  and  charm,  Clementina  was  an 
ignorant  little  country  girl,  who  had  neither  the  hard- 
uess  of  heart  nor  the  greediness  of  soul,  which  gets 
people  on  in  the  world,  and  repair  for  them  the  dis 
advantages  of  birth  and  education.  He  represented 
that  even  if  favorable  chances  for  success  in  society 
showed  themselves  to  the  girl,  the  intense  and  inex- 


BAGGED    LADY.  117 

pugnablc  vulgarity  of  Mrs.  Lander  would  spoil  them ; 
and  lie  was  glad  of  this,  he  said,  for  he  believed  that 
the  best  thing  which  could  happen  to  the  child  would 
be  to  come  home  as  sweet  and  good  as  she  had  gone 
away ;  he  added  this  was  what  they  ought  both  to 
pray  for. 

His  wife  admitted  this,  but  she  retorted  by  asking 
if  he  thought  such  a  thing  was  possible,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  own  that  it  was  not  possible.  He  marred 
the  effect  of  his  concession  by  subjoining  that  it  was 
no  more  possible  than  her  making  a  brilliant  and  tri 
umphant  social  figure  in  society,  either  at  home  or  in 
Europe. 


XIV. 

So  far  from  embarking  at  once  for  Europe,  Mrs. 
Lander  went  to  that  hotel  in  a  suburb  of  Boston, 
where  she  had  the  habit  of  passing  the  late  autumn 
months,  in  order  to  fortify  herself  for  the  climate  of 
the  early  winter  months  in  the  city.  She  was  a  little 
puzzled  how  to  provide  for  Clementina,  with  respect 
to  herself,  but  she  decided  that  the  best  thing  would 
be  to  have  her  sleep  in  a  room  opening  out  of  her 
own,  with  a  folding  bed  in  it,  so  that  it  could  be  used 
as  a  sort  of  parlor  for  both  of  them  during  the  day, 
and  be  within  easy  reach,  for  conversation,  at  all 
times. 

On  her  part,  Clementina  began  by  looking  after 
Mrs.  Lander's  comforts,  large  and  little,  like  a  daugh 
ter,  to  her  own  conception  and  to  that  of  Mrs.  Lander, 
but  to  other  eyes,  like  a  servant.  Mrs.  Lander  shyly 
shrank  from  acquaintance  among  the  other  ladies,  and 
in  the  absence  of  this,  she  could  not  introduce  Clem 
entina,  who  went  down  to  an  early  breakfast  alone, 
and  sat  apart  with  her  at  lunch  and  dinner,  minister 
ing  to  her  in  public  as  she  did  in  private.  She  ran 


RAGGED    LADY.  119 

back  to  their  rooms  to  fetch  her  shawl,  or  her  hand 
kerchief,  or  whichever  drops  or  powders  she  happened 
to  be  taking  with  her  meals,  and  adjusted  with  closer 
care  the  hassock  which  the  head  waiter  had  officially 
placed  at  her  feet.  They  seldom  sat  in  the  parlor 
where  the  ladies  met,  after  dinner ;  they  talked  only 
to  each  other;  and  there,  as  elsewhere,  the  girl  kept 
her  filial  care  of  the  old  woman.  The  question  of  her 
relation  to  Mrs.  Lander  became  so  pressing  among  sev 
eral  of  the  guests  that,  after  Clementina  had  watched 
over  the  banisters,  with  throbbing  heart  and  feet,  a 
little  dance  one  night  which  the  other  girls  had  got 
up  among  themselves,  and  had  fled  back  to  her  room 
at  the  approach  of  one  of  the  kindlier  and  bolder  of 
them,  the  landlord  felt  forced  to  learn  from  Mrs. 
Lander  how  Miss  Claxon  was  to  be  regarded.  He 
managed  delicately,  by  saying  he  would  give  the  Sun 
day  paper  she  had  ordered  to  her  nurse,  "  Or,  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  he  added,  as  if  he  had  made  a  mistake. 

"  Why,  she  a'n't  my  nuhse"  Mrs.  Lander  explained, 
simply,  neither  annoyed  nor  amused ;  "  she's  just  a 
young  lady  that's  visiting  me,  as  you  may  say,"  and 
this  put  an  end  to  the  misgiving  among  the  ladies. 
But  it  suggested  something  to  Mrs.  Lander,  and  a 
few  days  afterwards,  when  they  came  out  from  Bos 
ton  where  they  had  been  shopping,  and  she  had  been 
lavishing  a  bewildering  waste  of  gloves,  hats,  shoes, 
capes  and  gowns  upon  Clementina,  she  said,  "  I'll 
tell  you  what.  We've  got  to  have  a  maid." 

"  A  maid  ?  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  It  isn't  me,  or  my  things  I  want  her  for,"  said 


120  RAGGED    LADY. 

Mrs.  Lander.  "  It's  you  and  these  dresses  of  youas. 
I  presume  you  could  look  afta  them,  come  to  give 
youa  mind  to  it ;  but  I  don't  want  to  have  you  tied  up 
to  a  lot  of  clothes ;  and  I  presume  we  should  find  her 
a  comfo't  in  moa  ways  than  one,  both  of  us.  I  don't 
know  what  we  shall  want  her  to  do,  exactly ;  but  I 
guess  she  will,  if  she  undastands  her  business,  and  I 
want  you  should  go  in  with  me,  to-morror,  and  find 
one.  I'll  speak  to  some  of  the  ladies,  and  find  out 
whe's  the  best  place  to  go,  and  we'll  get  the  best  there 
is." 

A  lady  whom  Mrs.  Lander  spoke  to  entered  into 
the  affair  with  zeal  born  of  a  lurking  sense  of  the 
wrong  she  had  helped  do  Clementina  in  the  common 
doubt  whether  she  was  not  herself  Mrs.  Lander's 
maid.  She  offered  to  go  into  Boston  with  them  to 
an  intelligence  office,  where  you  could  get  nice  girls 
of  all  kinds  ;  but  she  ended  by  giving  Mrs.  Lander  the 
address,  and  instructions  as  to  what  she  was  to  require 
in  a  maid.  She  was  chiefly  to  get  an  English  maid, 
if  at  all  possible,  for  the  qualifications  would  more  or 
less  naturally  follow  from  her  nationality.  There 
proved  to  be  no  English  maid,  but  there  was  a  Swed 
ish  one  who  had  received  a  rigid  training  in  an  English 
family  living  on  the  Continent,  and  had  come  imme 
diately  from  that  service  to  seek  her  first  place  in 
America.  The  manager  of  the  office  pronounced  her 
character,  as  set  down  in  writing,  faultless,  and  Mrs. 
Lander  engaged  her.  "  You  want  to  look  afta  this 
young  lady,"  she  said,  indicating  Clementina.  "  I 
can  look  afta  myself,"  but  Ellida  took  charge  of  them 


RAGGED    LADY.  121 

both  on  the  train  out  from  Boston  with  prompt  intel 
ligence. 

u  We  got  to  get  used  to  it,  I  guess,"  Mrs.  Lander 
confided  at  the  first  chance  of  whispering  to  Clemen 
tina. 

Within  a  month  after  washing  the  faces  and  comb 
ing  the  hair  of  all  her  brothers  and  sisters  who  would 
suffer  it  at  her  hands,  Clementina's  own  head  was 
under  the  brush  of  a  lady's  maid,  who  was  of  as  great 
a  discreetness  in  her  own  way  as  Clementina  herself. 
She  supplied  the  defects  of  Mrs.  Lander's  elementary 
habits  by  simply  asking  if  she  should  get  this  thing 
and  that  thing  for  the  toilet,  without  criticising  its 
absence,  and  then  asking  whether  she  should  get  the 
same  things  for  her  young  lady.  She  appeared  to  let 
Mrs.  Lander  decide  between  having  her  brushes  in 
ivory  or  silver,  but  there  was  really  no  choice  for  her, 
and  they  came  in  silver.  She  knew  not  only  her  own 
place,  but  the  places  of  her  twro  ladies,  and  she  pres 
ently  had  them  in  such  training  that  they  were  as 
proficient  in  what  they  might  and  might  not  do  for 
themselves  and  for  each  other,  as  if  making  these 
distinctions  were  the  custom  of  their  lives. 

Their  hearts  would  both  have  gone  out  to  Ellida, 
but  Ellida  kept  them  at  a  distance  with  the  smooth 
respectfulness  of  the  iron  hand  in  the  glove  of  velvet ; 
and  Clementina  first  learned  from  her  to  imagine  the 
impassable  gulf  between  mistress  and  maid. 

At  the  end  of  her  month  she  gave  them,  out  of  a 
clear  sky,  a  week's  warning.  She  professed  no  griev 
ance,  and  was  not  moved  by  Mrs.  Lander's  appeal  to 


122  RAGGED    LADY. 

say  what  wages  she  wanted.  She  would  only  say  that 
she  was  going  to  take  a  place  on  Commonwealth  Ave 
nue,  where  a  friend  of  hers  was  living,  and  when  the 
week  was  up,  she  went,  and  left  her  late  mistresses 
feeling  rather  blank.  "  I  presume  we  shall  have  to 
get  anotha,"  said  Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Oh,  not  right  away  !  "  Clementina  pleaded. 

"  Well,  not  right  away,"  Mrs.  Lander  assented  ;  and 
provisionally  they  each  took  the  other  into  her  keep 
ing,  and  were  much  freer  and  happier  together. 

Soon  after  Clementina  was  startled  one  morning, 
as  she  was  going  in  to  breakfast,  by  seeing  Mr.  Fane 
at  the  clerk's  desk.  He  did  not  see  her;  he  was 
looking  down  at  the  hotel  register,  to  compute  the 
bill  of  a  departing  guest ;  but  when  she  passed  out 
she  found  him  watching  for  her,  with  some  letters. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  with  us,"  he  said,  with 
his  pensive  smile,  "  till  I  found  your  letters  here,  ad 
dressed  to  Mrs.  Lander's  care ;  and  then  I  put  two 
and  two  together.  It  only  shows  how  small  the  world 
is,  don't  you  think  so  ?  I've  just  got  back  from  my 
vacation ;  I  prefer  to  take  it  in  the  fall  of  the  year, 
because  it's  so  much  pleasanter  to  travel,  then.  I 
suppose  you  didn't  know  I  was  here  ? " 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  said  Clementina.  "  I  never  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing." 

"  To  be  sure  ;  why  should  you  ? "  Fane  reflected. 
"  I've  been  here  ever  since  last  spring.  But  I'll  say 
this,  Miss  Claxon,  that  if  it's  the  least  unpleasant  to 
you,  or  the  least  disagreeable,  or  awakens  any  kind 
of  associations  " — 


RAGGED    LADY.  123 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  Clementina  protested,  and  Fane  was 
spared  the  pain  of  saying  what  he  would  do  if  it  were. 

He  bowed,  and  she  said  sweetly,  "  It's  pleasant  to 
meet  any  one  I've  seen  before.  I  suppose  you  don't 
know  how  much  it's  changed  at  Middlemount  since 
you  we'e  thea."  Fane  answered  blankly,  while  he 
felt  in  his  breast  pocket,  Oh,  he  presumed  so ;  and  she 
added:  "  Ha'dly  any  of  the  same  guests  came  back 
this  summer,  and  they  had  more  in  July  than  they 
had  in  August,  Mrs.  Atwell  said.  Mr.  Mahtin,  the 
chef,  is  gone,  and  nea'ly  all  the  help  is  different." 

Fane  kept  feeling  in  one  pocket  and  then  slapped 
himself  over  the  other  pockets.  "No,"  he  said,  "I 
haven't  got  it  with  me.  I  must  have  left  it  in  my 
room.  I  just  received  a  letter  from  Frank — Mr.  Greg 
ory,  you  know ,  I  always  call  him  Frank — and  I 
thought  I  had  it  with  me.  He  was  asking  about 
Middlemount ;  and  I  wanted  to  read  you  what  he  said. 
But  I'll  find  it  upstairs.  He's  out  of  college,  now, 
and  he's  begun  his  studies  in  the  divinity  school. 
He's  at  Andover.  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
Frank,  oftentimes,"  the  clerk  continued,  confidentially. 
"  I  tell  him  he's  a  kind  of  a  survival,  in  religion ;  he's 
so  aesthetic."  It  seemed  to  Fane  that  he  had  not 
meant  aesthetic,  exactly,  but  he  could  not  ask  Clem 
entina  what  the  word  was.  He  went  on  to  say,  "  He's 
a  grand  good  fellow,  Frank  is,  but  he  don't  make 
enough  allowance  for  human  nature.  He's  more  like 
one  of  those  old  fashioned  orthodox.  I  go  in  for 
having  a  good  time,  so  long  as  you  don't  do  anybody 
else  any  hurt." 


124  RAGGED    LADY. 

He  left  her,  and  went  to  receive  the  commands  of 
a  lady  who  was  leaning  over  the  desk,  and  saying  se 
verely,  "  My  mail,  if  you  please,"  and  Clementina 
could  not  wait  for  him  to  come  back ;  she  had  to  go 
to  Mrs.  Lander,  and  get  her  ready  for  breakfast ;  El- 
lida  had  taught  Mrs.  Lander  a  luxury  of  helplessness 
in  which  she  persisted  after  the  maid's  help  was  with 
drawn. 

Clementina  went  about  the  whole  day  with  the 
wonder  what  Gregory  had  said  about  Middlemount 
filling  her  mind.  It  must  have  had  something  to  do 
with  her ;  he  could  not  have  forgotten  the  words  he 
had  asked  her  to  forget.  She  remembered  them  now 
with  a  curiosity,  which  had  no  rancor  in  it,  to  know 
why  he  really  took  them  back.  She  had  never  blamed 
him,  and  she  had  outlived  the  hurt  she  had  felt  at  not 
hearing  from  him.  But  she  had  never  lost  the  hope 
of  hearing  from  him,  or  rather  the  expectation,  and 
now  she  found  that  she  was  eager  for  his  message ; 
she  decided  that  it  must  be  something  like  a  message, 
although  it  could  not  be  anything  direct.  No  one 
else  had  come  to  his  place  in  her  fancy,  and  she  was 
willing  to  try  what  they  would  think  of  each  other 
now,  to  measure  her  own  obligation  to  the  past  by  a 
knowledge  of  his.  There  was  scarcely  more  than  this 
in  her  heart  when  she  allowed  herself  to  drift  near 
Fane's  place  that  night,  that  he  might  speak  to  her, 
and  tell  her  what  Gregory  had  said.  But  he  had 
apparently  forgotten  about  his  letter,  and  only  wished 
to  talk  about  himself.  He  wished  to  analyze  himself, 
to  tell  her  what  sort  of  person  he  was.  He  dealt 


RAGGED    LADY.  125 

impartially  with  the  subject;  he  did  not  spare  some 
faults  of  his ;  and  after  a  week,  he  proposed  a  corre 
spondence  with  her,  in  a  letter  of  carefully  studied 
spelling,  as  a  means  of  mutual  improvement  as  well 
as  further  acquaintance. 

It  cost  Clementina  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  answer 
him  as  she  wished  and  not  hurt  his  feelings.  She 
declined  in  terms  she  thought  so  cold  that  they  must 
offend  him  beyond  the  point  of  speaking  to  her  again ; 
but  he  sought  her  out,  as  soon  after  as  he  could,  and 
thanked  her  for  her  kindness,  and  begged  her  pardon. 
He  said  he  knew  that  she  was  a  very  busy  person, 
with  all  the  lessons  she  was  taking,  and  that  she  had 
no  time  for  carrying  on  a  correspondence.  He  re 
gretted  that  he  could  not  write  French,  because  then 
the  correspondence  would  have  been  good  practice  for 
her.  Clementina  had  begun  taking  French  lessons,  of 
a  teacher  who  came  out  from  Boston.  She  lunched 
three  times  a  week  with  her  and  Mrs.  Lander,  and 
spoke  the  language  with  Clementina,  whose  accent  she 
praised  for  its  purity ;  purity  of  accent  was  character 
istic  of  all  this  lady's  pupils ;  but  what  was  really 
extraordinary  in  Mademoiselle  Claxon  was  her  sense 
of  grammatical  structure  ;  she  wrote  the  language  even 
more  perfectly  than  she  spoke  it ;  but  beautifully,  but 
wonderfully  ;  her  exercises  were  something  marvellous. 

Mrs.  Lander  would  have  liked  Clementina  to  take 
all  the  lessons  that  she  heard  any  of  the  other  young 
ladies  in  the  hotel  were  taking.  One  of  them  went  in 

O 

town  every  day,  and  studied  drawing  at  an  art-school, 
and  she  wanted  Clementina  to  do  that,  too.  But 


126  RAGGED    LADY. 

Clementina  would  not  do  that ;  she  had  tried  often 
enough  at  home,  when  her  brother  Jim  was  drawing, 
and  her  father  was  designing  the  patterns  of  his  wood 
work  ;  she  knew  that  she  never  could  do  it,  and  the 
time  would  be  wasted.  She  decided  against  piano 
lessons  and  singing  lessons,  too ;  she  did  not  care  for 
either,  and  she  pleaded  that  it  would  be  a  waste  to 
study  them  ;  but  she  suggested  dancing  lessons,  and 
her  gift  for  dancing  won  greater  praise,  and  perhaps 
sincerer,  than  her  accent  won  from  Mademoiselle 
Blanc,  though  Mrs.  Lander  said  that  she  would  not 
have  believed  any  one  could  be  more  complimentary. 
She  learned  the  new  steps  and  figures  in  all  the  fash 
ionable  dances ;  she  mastered  some  fancy  dances, 
which  society  was  then  beginning  to  borrow  from  the 
stage ;  and  she  gave  these  before  Mrs.  Lander  with  a 
success  which  she  felt  herself. 

"  I  believe  I  could  teach  dancing,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  you  won't  eva  haf  to,  child,"  returned  Mrs. 
Lander,  with  an  eye  on  the  side  of  the  case  that  sel 
dom  escaped  her. 

In  spite  of  his  wish  to  respect  these  preoccupations, 
Fane  could  not  keep  from  offering  Clementina  atten 
tions,  which  took  the  form  of  persecution  when  they 
changed  from  flowers  for  Mrs.  Lander's  table  to  letters 

O 

for  herself.  He  apologized  for  his  letters  whenever 
he  met  her ;  but  at  last  one  of  them  came  to  her  be 
fore  breakfast  with  a  special  delivery  stamp  from  Bos 
ton.  He  had  withdrawn  to  the  city  to  write  it,  and 
he  said  that  if  she  could  not  make  him  a  favorable 
answer,  he  should  not  come  back  to  Woodlake. 


RAGGED    LADY.  127 

She  had  to  show  this  letter  to  Mrs.  Lander,  who 
asked:  "You  want  he  should  come  back?" 

"  No,  indeed  !     I  don't  want  eva  to  see  him  again." 

"  Well,  then,  I  guess  you'll  know  how  to  tell  him 
so." 

The  girl  went  into  her  own  room  to  write,  and  when 
she  brought  her  answer  to  show  it  to  Mrs.  Lander  she 
found  her  in  frowning  thought.  "  I  don't  know  but 
you'll  have  to  go  back  and  write  it  all  over  again, 
Clementina,"  she  said,  "  if  you've  told  him  not  to 
come.  I've  been  thinkin',  if  you  don't  want  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  him,  we  betta  go  ouaselves." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Clementina,  "  that's  what  I've 
said." 

"  You  have  ?  Well,  the  witch  is  in  it !  How  came 
you  to  " — 

"  I  just  wanted  to  talk  with  you  about  it.  But  I 
thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  go.  Or  at  least  /  should. 
I  should  like  to  go  home,  Mrs.  Landa." 

"  Home  !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Lander.  "  The'e's  plenty 
of  places  where  you  can  be  safe  from  the  fella  besides 
home,  though  I'll  take  you  back  the'a  this  minute  if 
you  say  so.  But  you  needn't  to  feel  wo'ked  up  about 
it." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not,"  said  Clementina,  but  with  a  gulp 
which  betrayed  her  nervousness. 

"  I  did  think,"  Mrs.  Lander  went  on,  "that  I  should 
go  into  the  Vonndome,  for  December  and  January,  but 
just  as  likely  as  not  he'd  come  pesterin'  the'a,  too,  and 
I  wouldn't  go,  now,  if  you  was  to  give  me  the  whole 
city  of  Boston.  Why  shouldn't  we  go  to  Florida  ? " 


128  RAGGED    LADY. 

When  Mrs.  Lander  had  once  imagined  the  move, 
the  nomadic  impulse  mounted  irresistably  in  her.  She 
spoke  of  hotels  in  the  South,  where  they  could  renew 
the  summer,  and  she  mapped  out  a  campaign  which 
she  put  into  instant  action  so  far  as  to  advance  upon 
New  York. 


XV. 

MRS.  Lander  went  to  a  hotel  in  New  York  where 
she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  staying  with  her  hus 
band,  on  their  way  South  or  North.  The  clerk  knew 
her,  and  shook  hands  with  her  across  the  register,  and 
said  she  could  have  her  old  rooms  if  she  wanted  them  ; 
the  bell-boy  who  took  up  their  hand-baggage  recalled 
himself  to  her ;  the  elevator-boy  welcomed  her  with  a 
smile  of  remembrance. 

Since  she  was  already  up,  from  coming  off  the. 
sleeping-car,  she  had  no  excuse  for  not  going  to  break 
fast  like  other  people ;  and  she  went  with  Clementina 
to  the  dining-room,  where  the  head-waiter,  who  found 
them  places,  spoke  with  an  outlandish  accent,  and  the 
waiter  who  served  them  had  a  parlance  that  seemed 
superficially  English,  but  was  inwardly  something 
else ;  there  was  even  a  touch  in  the  cooking  of  the 
familiar  dishes,  that  needed  translation  for  the  girl's 
inexperienced  palate.  She  was  finding  a  refuge  in 
the  strangeness  of  everything,  when  she  was  startled 
by  the  sound  of  a  familiar  voice  calling,  "  Clementina 
Claxon  !  Well,  I  was  sure  all  along  it  was  you,  and  I 
determined  I  wouldn't  stand  it  another  minute.  Why, 


130  RAGGED    LADY. 

child,  how  you  have  changed !  Why,  I  declare  you 
are  quite  a  woman  !  When  did  you  come  ?  How 
pretty  you  are  !  " 

Mrs.  Milray  took  Clementina  in  her  arms  and  kissed 
her  in  proof  of  her  admiration  before  the  whole 
breakfast  room.  She  was  very  nice  to  Mrs.  Lander, 
too,  who,  when  Clementina  introduced  them,  made 
haste  to  say  that  Clementina  was  there  on  a  visit  with 
her.  Mrs.  Milray  answered  that  she  envied  her  such 
a  visitor  as  Miss  Claxon,  and  protested  that  she  should 
steal  her  away  for  a  visit  to  herself,  if  Mr.  Milray  was 
not  so  much  in  love  with  her  that  it  made  her  jealous. 
"  Mr.  Milray  has  to  have  his  breakfast  in  his  room," 
she  explained  to  Clementina.  "  He's  not  been  so 
well,  since  he  lost  his  mother.  Yes,"  she  said,  with 
decorous  solemnity,  "  I'm  still  in  mourning  for  her," 
and  Clementina  saw  that  she  was  in  a  tempered  black. 
"  She  died  last  year,  and  now  I'm  taking  Mr.  Milray 
abroad  to  see  if  it  won't  cheer  him  up  a  little.  Are 
you  going  South  for  the  winter  ?  "  she  inquired,  po 
litely,  of  Mrs.  Lander.  "I  wish  I  was  going,"  she 
said,  when  Mrs.  Lander  guessed  they  should  go,  later 
on.  "  Well,  you  must  come  in  and  see  me  all  you 
can,  Clementina;  and  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  call 
ing  upon  you,"  she  added  to  Mrs.  Lander  with  state 
that  was  lost  in  the  soubrette-like  volatility  of  her  flight 
from  them  the  next  moment.  "  Goodness,  I  forgot 
all  about  Mr.  Milray's  breakfast !  "  She  ran  back  to 
the  table  she  had  left  on  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

"Who  is  that,  Clementina?"  asked  Mrs.  Lander, 
on  their  way  to  their  rooms.  Clementina  explained 


RAGGED    LADY.  131 

as  well  as  she  could,  and  Mrs.  Lander  summed  up  her 
feeling  in  the  verdict,  "  Well,  she's  a  lady,  if  ever  I 
saw  a  lady ;  and  you  don't  see  many  of  'em,  nowa 
days." 

The  girl  remembered  how  Mrs.  Milray  had  once 
before  seemed  very  fond  of  her,  and  had  afterwards 
forgotten  the  pretty  promises  and  professions  she  had 
made  her.  But  she  went  with  Mrs.  Lander  to  see 
her,  and  she  saw  Mr.  Milray,  too,  for  a  little  while. 
He  seemed  glad  of  their  meeting,  but  still  depressed 
by  the  bereavement  which  Mrs.  Milray  supported  al 
most  with  gayety.  When  he  left  them  she  explained 
that  he  was  a  good  deal  away  from  her,  with  his  fam 
ily,  as  she  approved  of  his  being,  though  she  had 
apparently  no  wish  to  join  him  in  all  the  steps  of  the 
reconciliation  which  the  mother's  death  had  brought 
about  among  them.  Sometimes  his  sisters  came  to 
the  hotel  to  see  her,  but  she  amused  herself  perfectly 
without  them,  and  she  gave  much  more  of  her  leisure 
to  Clementina  and  Mrs.  Lander. 

She  soon  knew  the  whole  history  of  the  relation  be 
tween  them,  and  the  first  time  that  Clementina  found 
her  alone  with  Mrs.  Lander  she  could  have  divined 
that  Mrs.  Lander  had  been  telling  her  of  the  Fane 
affair,  even  if  Mrs.  Milray  had  not  at  once  called  out 
to  her,  "  I  know  all  about  it ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Clementina,  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  with  me  and 
marry  you  to  an  English  Duke.  Mrs.  Lander  and  I 
have  been  planning  it  all  out,  and  I'm  going  to  send 
down  to  the  steamer  office,  and  engage  your  passage. 
It's  all  settled  !  " 


132  RAGGED    LADY. 

When  she  was  gone,  Mrs.  Lander  asked,  "  What 
do  you  s'pose  your  folks  would  say  to  your  goin'  to 
Europe,  anyway,  Clementina  ? "  as  if  the  matter  had 
been  already  debated  between  them. 

Clementina  hesitated.  "  I  should  want  to  be  su'a 
Mrs.  Milray  really  wanted  me  to  go  ova  with  her." 

"  Why,  didn't  you  hear  her  say  so  ? "  demanded 
Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Clementina.  "  Mrs.  Lander,  I  think 
Mrs.  Milray  means  what  she  says,  at  the  time,  but  she 
is  one  that  seems  to  forget." 

"  She  thinks  the  wo'ld  of  you,"  Mrs.  Lander  urged. 

"  She  was  very  nice  to  me  that  summer  at  Middle- 
mount.  I  guess  maybe  she  would  like  to  have  us  go 
with  her,"  the  girl  relented. 

"  I  guess  we'll  wait  and  see,"  said  Mrs.  Lander. 
"  I  shouldn't  want  she  should  change  her  mind  when 
it  was  too  late,  as  you  say."  They  were  both  silent 
for  a  time,  and  then  Mrs.  Lander  resumed,  "  But  I 
presume  she  ha'n't  got  the  only  steama  that's  crossin'. 
What  should  you  say  about  goin'  over  on  some  otha 
steama?  I  been  South  a  good  many  wintas,  and  I 
should  feel  kind  of  lonesome  goin'  round  to  the  places 
where  I  been  with  Mr.  Landa.  I  felt  it  since  I  been 
here  in  this  hotel,  some,  and  I  can't  seem  to  want  to 
go  ova  the  same  ground  again,  well,  not  right  away." 

Clementina  said,  "  Why,  of  cou'se,  Mrs.  Landa." 

"  Should  you  be  willin',"  asked  Mrs.  Lander,  after 
another  little  pause,  "  if  your  folks  was  willin',  to  go 
ova  the'a,  to  some  of  them  European  countries,  to 
spend  the  winta?" 


RAGGED    LADY.  133 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed  !  "  said  Clementina. 

They  discussed  the  matter  in  one  of  the  full  talks 
they  both  liked.  At  the  end  Mrs.  Lander  said, 
"  Well,  I  guess  you  betta  write  home,  and  ask  your 
motha  whetha  you  can  go,  so't  if  we  take  the  notion 
we  can  go  any  time.  Tell  her  to  telegraph,  if  she'll 
let  you,  and  do  write  all  the  ifs  and  ands,  so't  she'll 
know  just  how  to  answa,  without  havin'  to  have  you 
write  again." 

That  evening  Mrs.  Milray  came  to  their  table  from 
where  she  had  been  dining  alone,  and  asked  in  banter: 
"  Well,  have  you  made  up  your  minds  to  go  over  with 
me « " 

Mrs.  Lander  said  bluntly,  "  We  can't  ha'dly  believe 
you  really  want  us  to,  Mrs.  Milray." 

"  /  don't  want  you  ?  Who  put  such  an  idea  into 
your  head  !  Oh,  /  know  !  "  She  threatened  Clem 
entina  with  the  door-key,  which  she  was  carrying  in 
her  hand.  "  It  was  you,  was  it  ?  What  an  artful, 
suspicious  thing  !  What's  got  into  you,  child  ?  Do 
you  hate  me  ? "  She  did  not  give  Clementina  time  to 
protest.  "  Well,  now,  I  can  just  tell  you  I  do  want 
you,  and  I'll  be  quite  heart-broken  if  you  don't  come." 

"  Well,  she  wrote  to  her  friends  this  mohning," 
Mrs.  Lander  said,  "  but  I  guess  she  won't  git  an  answa 
in  time  for  youa  steamer,  even  if  they  do  let  her  go." 

"  Oh,  yes  she  will,"  Mrs.  Milray  protested.  "  It's 
all  right,  now ;  you've  got  to  go,  and  there's  no  use 
trying  to  get  out  of  it." 

She  came  to  them  whenever  she  could  find  them  in 
the  dining-room,  and  she  knocked  daily  at  their  door 


134  RAGGED    LADY. 

till  she  knew  that  Clementina  had  heard  from  home. 
The  girl's  mother  wrote,  without  a  punctuation  mark 
in  her  letter,  but  with  a  great  deal  of  sense,  that  such 
a  thing  as  her  going  to  Europe  could  not  be  settled 
by  telegraph.  She  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
report  all  the  facts. of  a  consultation  with  the  rector 
which  they  had  held  upon  getting  Clementina's  re 
quest,  and  which  had  renewed  all  the  original  question 
of  her  relations  with  Mrs.  Lander  in  an  intensified 
form.  He  had  disposed  of  this  upon  much  the  same 
terms  as  before ;  and  they  had  yielded  more  readily 
because  the  experiment  had  so  far  succeeded.  Clem 
entina  had  apparently  no  complaint  to  make  of  Mrs. 
Lander ;  she  was  eager  to  go,  and  the  rector  and  his 
wife,  who  had  been  invited  to  be  of  the  council,  were 
both  of  the  opinion  that  a  course  of  European  travel 
would  be  of  the  greatest  advantage  to  the  girl,  if  she 
wished  to  fit  herself  for  teaching.  It  was  an  oppor 
tunity  that  they  must  not  think  of  throwing  away. 
If  Mrs.  Lander  went  to  Florence,  as  it  seemed  from 
Clementina's  letter  she  thought  of  doing,  the  girl 
would  pass  a  delightful  winter  in  study  of  one  of  the 
most  interesting  cities  in  the  world,  and  she  would 
learn  things  which  would  enable  her  to  do  better  for 
herself  when  she  came  home  than  she  could  ever  hope 
to  do  otherwise.  She  might  never  marry,  Mr.  Rich- 
ling  suggested,  and  it  was  only  right  and  fair  that  she 
should  be  equipped  with  as  much  culture  as  possible 
for  the  struggle  of  life ;  Mrs.  Richling  agreed  with 
this  rather  vague  theory,  but  she  was  sure  that  Clem 
entina  would  get  married  to  greater  advantage  in 


RAGGED    LADY.  135 

Florence  than  anywhere  else.  They  neither  of  them 
really  knew  anything  at  first  hand  about  Florence; 
the  rector's  opinion  was  grounded  on  the  thought  of 
the  joy  that  a  sojourn  in  Italy  would  have  been  to 
him ;  his  wife  derived  hec  hope  of  a  Florentine  marri 
age  for  Clementina  from  several  romances  in  which 
love  and  travel  had  gone  hand  in  hand,  to  the  lasting 
credit  of  triumphant  American  girlhood. 

The  Claxons  were  not  able  to  enter  into  their  view 
of  the  case,  but  if  Mrs.  Lander  wanted  to  go  to  Flor 
ence  instead  of  Florida  they  did  not  see  why  Clemen 
tina  should  not  go  with  her  to  one  place  as  well  as  the 
other.  They  were  not  without  a  sense  of  flattery  from 
the  fact  that  their  daughter  was  going  to  Europe ;  but 
they  put  that  as  far  from  them  as  they  could,  the 
mother  severely  and  the  father  ironically,  as  some 
thing  too  silly,  and  they  tried  not  to  let  it  weigh  with 
them  in  making  up  their  mind,  but  to  consider  only 
Clementina's  best  good,  and  not  even  to  regard  her 
pleasure.  Her  mother  put  before  her  the  most  crucial 
questions  she  could  think  of,  in  her  letter,  and  then 
gave  her  full  leave  from  her  father  as  well  as  herself 
to  go  if  she  wished. 

Clementina  had  rather  it  had  been  too  late  to  go 
with  the  Milrays,  but  she  felt  bound  to  own  her  de 
cision  when  she  reached  it;  and  Mrs.  Milray,  whatever 
her  real  wish  was,  made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  help 
get  Mrs.  Lander  berths  on  her  steamer.  It  did  not 
require  much  effort ;  there  are  plenty  of  berths  for  the 
latest-comers  on  a  winter  passage,  and  Clementina 
found  herself  the  fellow  passenger  of  Mrs.  Milray. 


XVI. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Lander  could  make  her  way  to  her 
state-room,  she  got  into  her  berth,  and  began  to  take 
the  different  remedies  for  sea-sickness  which  she  had 
brought  with  her.  Mrs.  Milray  said  that  was  nice, 
and  that  now  she  and  Clementina  could  have  a  good 
time.  But  before  it  came  to  that  she  had  taken  pity 
on  a  number  of  lonely  young  men  whom  she  found  on 
board.  She  cheered  them  up  by  walking  round  the 
ship  with  them ;  but  if  any  of  them  continued  dull  in 
spite  of  this,  she  dropped  him,  and  took  another ; 
and  before  she  had  been  two  days  out  she  had  gone 
through  with  nearly  all  the  lonely  young  men  on  the 
list  of  cabin  passengers.  She  introduced  some  of 
them  to  Clementina,  but  at  such  times  as  she  had 
them  in  charge ;  and  for  the  most  part  she  left  her  to 
Milray.  Once,  as  the  girl  sat  beside  him  in  her  steam 
er-chair,  Mrs.  Milray  shed  a  wrap  on  his  knees  in 
whirring  by  on  the  arm  of  one  of  her  young  men, 
with  some  laughed  and  shouted  charge  about  it. 

"  What  did  she  say  ? "  he  asked  Clementina,  slant 
ing  the  down-pulled  brim  of  his  soft  hat  purblindly 
toward  her. 


RAGGED    LADY.  137 

She  said  she  had  not  understood,  and  then  Milray 
asked,  "  What  sort  of  person  is  that  Boston  youth  of 
Mrs.  Milray 's  ?  Is  he  a  donkey  or  a  lamb  ? " 

Clementina  said  ingenuously,  "  Oh,  she's  walking 
with  that  English  gentleman  now — that  lo'd." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Milray.  "  He's  not  very  much  to 
look  at,  I  hear." 

"  Well,  not  very  much,"  Clementina  admitted ;  she 
did  not  like  to  talk  against  people. 

"  Lords  are  sometimes  disappointing,  Clementina," 
Milray  said,  "  but  then,  so  are  other  great  men.  I've 
seen  politicians  on  our  side  who  were  disappointing, 
and  there  are  clergymen  and  gamblers  who  don't  look 
it."  He  laughed  sadly.  "That's  the  way  people  talk 
who  are  a  little  disappointing  themselves.  I  hope 
you  don't  expect  too  much  of  yourself,  Clementina  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  stiffening 
with  a  suspicion  that  he  might  be  going  to  make  fun 
of  her. 

He  laughed  more  gayly.  "  Well,  I  mean  we  must 
hold  the  other  fellows  up  to  their  duty,  or  we  can't  do 
our  own.  We  need  their  example.  Charity  may  begin 
at  home,  but  duty  certainly  begins  abroad."  He 
went  on,  as  if  it  were  a  branch  of  the  same  inquiry, 
"  Did  you  ever  meet  my  sisters  ?  They  came  to  the 
hotel  in  New  York  to  see  Mrs.  Milray." 

"  Yes,  I  was  in  the  room  once  when  they  came  in." 

"  Did  you  like  them  ?  " 

"  Yes — I  sca'cely  spoke  to  them — I  only  stayed  a 
moment." 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  any  more  of  the  family  ? " 


188  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Why,  of   cou'se  !  "     Clementina  was  amused  at 
his  asking,  but  he  seemed  in  earnest. 
*       "  One  of  my  sisters  lives  in  Florence,  and  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray  says  you  think  of  going  there,  too." 

"  Mrs.  Land  a  thought  it  would  be  a  good  place  to 
spend  the  winter.  Is  it  a  pleasant  place  ?  " 

"  Oh,  delightful !  Do  you  know  much  about  Italy  ? " 

"  Not  very  much,  I  don't  believe." 

"  Well,  my  sister  has  lived  a  good  while  in  Florence. 
I  should  like  to  give  you  a  letter  to  her." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  said  Clementina. 

Milray  smiled  at  her  spare  acknowledgment,  but 
inquired  gravely :  "  What  do  you  expect  to  do  in 
Florence  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  presume,  whateva  Mrs.  Landa  wants  to 
do." 

"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Lander  will  want  to  go  into 
society  ? " 

This  question  had  not  occurred  to  Clementina.  "  I 
don't  believe  she  will,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 

"  Shall  you  ? " 

Clementina  laughed,  "Why,  do  you  think,"  she 
ventured,  "  that  society  would  want  me  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  would,  if  you're  as  charming  as 
you've  tried  to  make  me  believe.  Oh,  I  don't  mean, 
to  your  own  knowledge  ;  but  some  people  have  ways  of 
being  charming  without  knowing  it.  If  Mrs.  Lander 
isn't  going  into  society,  and  there  should  be  a  way 
found  for  you  to  go,  don't  refuse,  will  you?" 

"  I  shall  wait  and  see  if  I'm  asked,  fust." 

"Yes,  that  will  be  best,"  said    Milray.       "But  I 


RAGGED    LADY.  139 

shall  give  you  a  letter  to  my  sister.  She  and  I  used 
to  be  famous  cronies,  and  we  went  to  a  great  many 
parties  together  when  we  were  young  people.  We 
thought  the  world  was  a  fine  thing,  then.  But  it 
changes." 

He  fell  into  a  muse,  and  they  were  both  sitting 
quite  silent  when  Mrs.  Milray  came  round  the  corner 
of  the  music  room  in  the  course  of  her  twentieth  or 
thirtieth  compass  of  the  deck,  and  introduced  her 
lord  to  her  husband  and  to  Clementina.  He  promptly 
ignored  Milray,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  girl,  lean 
ing  over  her  with  his  hand  against  the  bulkhead  be 
hind  her  and  talking  down  upon  her. 

Lord  Lioncourt  must  have  been  about  thirty,  but 
he  had  the  heated  and  broken  complexion  of  a  man 
who  has  taken  more  than  is  good  for  him  in  twice 
that  number  of  years.  This  was  one  of  the  wrongs 
nature  had  done  him  in  apparent  resentment  of  the 
social  advantages  he  was  born  to,  for  he  was  rather 
abstemious,  as  Englishmen  go.  He  looked  a  very 
shy  person  till  he  spoke,  and  then  you  found  that  he 
was  not  in  the  least  shy.  He  looked  so  English  that 
you  would  have  expected  a  strong  English  accent  of 
him,  but  his  speech  was  more  that  of  an  American, 
without  the  nasality.  This  was  not  apparently  because 
he  had  been  much  in  America ;  he  was  returning  from 
his  first  visit  to  the  States,  which  had  been  spent 
chiefly  in  the  Territories ;  after  a  brief  interval  of 
Newport  he  had  preferred  the  West ;  he  liked  rather 
to- hunt  than  to  be  hunted,  though  even  in  the  West 
his  main  business  had  been  to  kill  time,  which  he 


140  RAGGED    LADY. 

found  more  plentiful  there  than  other  game.  The 
natives,  everywhere,  were  much  the  same  thing  to 
him ;  if  he  distinguished  it  was  in  favor  of  those  who 
did  not  suppose  themselves  cultivated.  If  again  he 
had  a  choice  it  was  for  the  females ;  they  seemed  to 
him  more  amusing  than  the  males,  who  struck  him  as 
having  an  exaggerated  reputation  for  humor.  He 
did  not  care  much  for  Clementina's  past,  as  he  knew 
it  from  Mrs.  Milray,  and  if  it  did  not  touch  his  fancy, 
it  certainly  did  not  offend  his  taste.  A  real  artistoc- 
racy  is  above  social  prejudice,  when  it  will ;  he  had 
known  some  of  his  order  choose  the  mothers  of  their 
heirs  from  the  music  halls,  and  when  it  came  to  a 
question  of  distinctions  among  Americans,  he  could 
not  feel  them.  They  might  be  richer  or  poorer ;  but 
they  could  not  be  more  patrician  or  more  plebeian. 

The  passengers,  he  told  Clementina,  were  getting 
up,  at  this  point  of  the  ship's  run,  an  entertainment 
for  the  benefit  of  the  seaman's  hospital  in  Liverpool, 
that  well-known  convention  of  ocean-travel,  which  is 
sure  at  some  time  or  other,  to  enlist  all  the  talent  on 
board  every  English  steamer  in  some  sort  of  public 
appeal.  He  was  not  very  clear  how  he  came  to  be  on 
the  committee  for  drumming  up  talent  for  the  occa 
sion  ;  his  distinction  seemed  to  have  been  conferred 
by  a  popular  vote  in  the  smoking  room,  as  nearly  as 
he  could  make  out;  but  here  he  was,  and  he  was 
counting  upon  Miss  Claxon  to  help  him  out.  He  said 
Mrs.  Milray  had  told  him  about  that  charming  affair 
they  had  got  up  in  the  mountains,  and  he  was  sure 
they  could  have  something  of  the  kind  again.  "  Per- 


RAGGED    LADY.  141 

haps  not  a  coaching  party ;  that  mightn't  be  so  easy 
to  manage  at  sea.  But  isn't  there  something  else — 
some  tableaux  or  something?  If  we  couldn't  have 
the  months  of  the  year  we  might  have  the  points  of 
the  compass,  and  you  could  take  your  choice." 

He  tried  to  get  something  out  of  the  notion,  but 
nothing  came  of  it  that  Mrs.  Milray  thought  possible. 
She  said,  across  her  husband,  on  whose  further  side 
she  had  sunk  into  a  chair,  that  they  must  have  some 
thing  very  informal ;  everybody  must  do  what  they 
could,  separately.  "  I  know  you  can  do  anything 
you  like,  Clementina.  Can't  you  play  something,  or 
sing?"  At  Clementina's  look  of  utter  denial,  she 
added,  desperately,  "  Or  dance  something?  "  A  light 
came  into  the  girl's  face  at  which  she  caught.  "  I 
know  you  can  dance  something !  Why,  of  course  ! 
Now,  what  is  it  ? " 

Clementina  smiled  at  her  vehemence.  "  Why,  it's 
nothing.  And  I  don't  know  whether  I  should  like 
to." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  urged  Lord  Lioncourt.  "  Such  a  good 
cause,  you  know." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  Mrs.  Milray  insisted.  "Is  it  some 
thing  you  could  do  alone  ? " 

"  It's  just  a  dance  that  I  learned  at  Woodlake. 
The  teacha  said  that  all  the  young  ladies  we'e  lea'n- 
ing  it.  It's  a  skut-dance  " — 

"The  very  thing!"  Mrs.  Milray  shouted.  "It'll 
be  the  hit  of  the  evening." 

"  But  I've  never  done  it  before  any  one,"  Clemen 
tina  faltered. 


142  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  They'll  all  be  doing  their  turns,"  the  Englishman 
said.  "  Speaking,  and  singing,  and  playing." 

Clementina  felt  herself  giving  way,  and  she  pleaded 
in  final  reluctance,  "  But  I  haven't  got  a  pleated  skut 
in  my  steama  trunk." 

"  No  matter  !  We  can  manage  that."  Mrs.  Milray 
jumped  to  her  feet  and  took  Lord  Lioncourt's  arm. 
"Now  we  must  go  and  drum  up  somebody  else." 
He  did  not  seem  eager  to  go,  but  he  started.  "  Then 
that's  all  settled,"  she  shouted  over  her  shoulder  to 
Clementina. 

"  No,  no,  Mrs.  Milray  ! "  Clementina  called  after 
her.  "  The  ship  tilts  so  "— 

"  Nonsense  !  It's  the  smoothest  run  she  ever  made 
in  December.  And  I'll  engage  to  have  the  sea  as 
steady  as  a  rock  for  you.  Remember,  now,  you've 
promised." 

Mrs.  Milray  whirled  her  Englishman  away,  and  left 
Clementina  sitting  beside  her  husband. 

"Did  you  want  to  dance  for  them,  Clementina?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  with  the  vague  smile  of 
one  to  whom  a  pleasant  hope  has  occurred. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  letting  Mrs.  Milray 
bully  you  into  it.  She's  a  frightful  tyrant." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  should  like  to  do  it,  if  you  think 
it  would  be — nice." 

u  I  dare  say  it  will  be  the  nicest  thing  at  their  ridic 
ulous  show."  Milray  laughed  as  if  her  willingness  to 
do  the  dance  had  defeated  a  sentimental  sympathy  in 
him. 


RAGGED    LADY.  143 

"  I  don't  believe  it  will  be  that,"  said  Clementina, 
beaming  joyously.  "  But  I  guess  I  sliall  try  it,  if  I 
can  find  the  right  kind  of  a  dress." 

"  Is  a  pleated  skirt  absolutely  necessary,"  asked 
Milray,  gravely. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  could  get  on  without  it,"  said 
Clementina. 

She  was  so  serious  still  when  she  went  down  to  her 
state-room  that  Mrs.  Lander  was  distracted  from  her 
potential  ailments  to  ask:  "  What  is  it,  Clementina?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Mrs.  Milray  has  got  me  to  say  that 
I  would  do  something  at  a  concert  they  ah'  going  to 
have  on  the  ship."  She  explained,  "  It's  that  skut 
dance  I  learnt  at  Woodlake  of  Miss  Wilson." 

"  Well,  I  guess  if  you're  worry  in'  about  that  you 
needn't  to." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  worrying  about  the  dance.  I  was 
just  thinking  what  I  should  wear.  If  I  could  only 
get  at  the  trunks  !  " 

"  It  won't  make  any  matta  what  you  wear,"  said 
Mrs.  Lander.  "  It'll  be  the  greatest  thiny  ;  and  if  't 
wa'n't  for  this  sea-sickness  that  I  have  to  keep  fightin' 
off  he'a,  night  and  day,  I  should  come  up  and  see  you 
myself.  You  ah'  just  lovely  in  that  dance,  Clemen 
tina." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Landa?"  asked  the  girl, 
gratefully.  "  Well,  Mr.  Milray  didn't  seem  to  think 
that  I  need  to  have  a  pleated  skut.  Any  rate,  I'm 
going  to  look  over  my  things,  and  see  if  I  can't  make 
something  else  do." 


XVII. 

THE  entertainment  was  to  be  the  second  night  after 
that,  and  Mrs.  Milray  at  first  took  the  whole  affair 
into  her  own  hands.  She  was  willing  to  let  the  oth 
ers  consult  with  her,  but  she  made  all  the  decisions, 
and  she  became  so  prepotent  that  she  drove  Lord 
Lioncourt  to  rebellion  in  the  case  of  some  theatrical 
people  whom  he  wanted  in  the  programme.  He 
wished  her  to  let  them  feel  that  they  were  favoring 
rather  than  favored,  and  she  insisted  that  it  should 
be  quite  the  other  way.  She  professed  a  scruple 
against  having  theatrical  people  in  the  programme  at 
all,  which  she  might  not  have  felt  if  her  own  past  had 
been  different,  and  she  spoke  with  an  abhorrence  of 
the  stage  which  he  could  by  no  means  tolerate  in  the 
case.  She  submitted  with  dignity  when  she  could 
not  help  it.  Perhaps  she  submitted  with  too  much 
dignity.  Her  concession  verged  upon  hauteur;  and 
in  her  arrogant  meekness  she  went  back  to  another 
of  her  young  men,  whom  she  began  to  post  again  as 
the  companion  of  her  promenades. 

He  had  rather  an  anxious  air  in  the  enjoyment  of 
the  honor,  but  the  Englishman  seemed  unconscious 


;>x^- 


RAGGED    LADY.  145 

of  its  loss,  or  else  lie  chose  to  ignore  it.  He  frankly 
gave  his  leisure  to  Clementina,  and  she  thought  he 
was  very  pleasant.  There  was  something  different  in 
his  way  from  that  of  any  of  the  other  men  she  had 
met;  something  very  natural  and  simple,  a  way  of 
being  easy  in  what  he  was,  and  not  caring  whether 
he  was  like  others  or  not ;  he  was  not  ashamed  of  be 
ing  ignorant  of  anything  he  did  not  know,  and  she 
was  able  to  instruct  him  on  some  points.  He  took 
her  quite  seriously  when  she  told  him  about  Middle- 
mount,  and  how  her  family  came  to  settle  there,  and 
then  how  she  came  to  be  going  to  Europe  with  Mrs. 
Lander.  He  said  Mrs.  Milray  had  spoken  about  it ; 
but  he  had  not  understood  quite  how  it  was  before ; 
and  he  hoped  Mrs.  Lander  was  coming  to  the  enter 
tainment. 

He  did  not  seem  aware  that  Mrs.  Milray  was  leav 
ing  the  affair  more  and  more  to  him.  He  went  for 
ward  with  it  and  was  as  amiable  with  her  as  she  would 
allow.  He  was  so  amiable  with  everybody  that  he 
reconciled  many  true  Americans  to  his  leadership, 
who  felt  that  as  nearly  all  the  passengers  were  Amer 
icans,  the  chief  patron  of  the  entertainment  ought  to 
have  been  some  distinguished  American.  The  want 
of  an  American  who  was  very  distinguished  did  some 
thing  to  pacify  them ;  but  the  behavior  of  an  English 
lord  who  put  on  no  airs  was  the  main  agency.  When 
the  night  came  they  filled  the  large  music  room  of  the 
Asia  Minor,  and  stood  about  in  front  of  the  sofas  and 
chairs  so  many  deep  that  it  was  hard  to  see  or  hear 
through  them. 
J 


146  RAGGED    LADY. 

They  each  paid  a  shilling  admittance ;  they  were 
prepared  to  give  munificently  besides  when  the  hat 
came  round ;  and  after  the  first  burst  of  blundering 
from  Lord  Lioncourt,  they  led  the  magnanimous  ap- 
••  plause.  He  said  he  never  minded  making  a  bad  speech 
in  a  good  cause,  and  he  made  as  bad  a  one  as  very 
well  could  be.  He  closed  it  by  telling  Mark  Twain's 
whistling  story  so  that  those  who  knew  it  by  heart 
missed  the  point ;  but  that  might  have  been  because 
he  hurried  it,  to  get  himself  out  of  the  way  of  the 
others  following.  When  he  had  done,  one  of  the 
most  ardent  of  the  Americans  proposed  three  cheers 
for  him. 

The  actress  whom  he  had  secured  in  spite  of  Mrs. 
Milray  appeared  in  woman's  dress  contrary  to  her 
inveterate  professional  habit,  and  followed  him  with 
great  acceptance  in  her  favorite  variety-stage  song; 
and  then  her  husband  gave  imitations  of  Sir  Henry 
Irving,  and  of  Miss  Maggie  Kline  in  "  T'row  him  down, 
McCloskey,"  with  a  cockney  accent.  A  frightened 
little  girl,  whose  mother  had  volunteered  her  talent, 
gasped  a  ballad  to  her  mother's  accompaniment,  and 
two  young  girls  played  a  duet  on  the  mandolin  and 
guitar.  A  gentleman  of  cosmopolitan  military  tradi 
tion,  who  sold  the  pools  in  the  smoking-room,  and  was 
the  friend  of  all  the  men  present,  and  the  acquaintance 
of  several,  gave  selections  of  his  autobiography  pref 
atory  to  bellowing  in  a  deep  bass  voice,  "  They're 
hanging  Danny  Deaver,"  and  then  a  lady  interpolated 
herself  into  the  programme  with  a  kindness  which 
Lord  Lioncourt  acknowledged,  in  saying  "  The  more 


RAGGED    LADY.  147 

the  merrier,"  and  sang  Bonnie  Dundee,  thumping  the 
piano  out  of  all  proportion  to  her  size  and  apparent 
strength. 

Some  advances  which  Clementina  had  made  for 
Mrs.  Milray's  help  about  the  dress  she  should  wear  in 
her  dance  met  with  bewildering  indifference,  and  she 
had  fallen  back  upon  her  own  devices.  She  did  not 
think  of  taking  back  her  promise,  and  she  had  come 
to  look  forward  to  her  part  with  a  happiness  which 
the  good  weather  and  the  even  sway  of  the  ship  en 
couraged.  But  her  pulses  fluttered,  as  she  glided  into 
the  music  room,  and  sank  into  a  chair  next  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray.  She  had  on  an  accordion  skirt  which  she  had 
been  able  to  get  out  of  her  trunk  in  the  hold,  and  she 
felt  that  the  glance  of  Mrs.  Milray  did  not  refuse  it 
approval. 

"  That  will  do  nicely,  Clementina,"  she  said.  She 
added,  in  careless  acknowledgement  of  her  own  failure 
to  direct  her  choice,  "  I  see  you  didn't  need  my  help 
after  all,"  and  the  thorny  point  which  Clementina  felt 
in  her  praise  was  rankling,  when  Lord  Lioncourt  be 
gan  to  introduce  her. 

He  made  rather  a  mess  of  it,  but  as  soon  as  he 
came  to  an  end  of  his  well-meant  blunders,  she  stood 
up  and  began  her  poses  and  paces.  It  was  all  very 
innocent,  with  something  courageous  as  well  as  appeal 
ing.  She  had  a  kind  of  tender  dignity  in  her  dance, 
and  the  delicate  beauty  of  her  face  translated  itself 
into  the  grace  of  her  movements.  It  was  not  imper 
sonal  ;  there  was  her  own  quality  of  sylvan,  of  elegant 
in  it ;  but  it  w^as  unconscious,  and  so  far  it  was  typi- 


148  RAGGED    LADY. 

cal,  it  was  classic ;  Mrs.  Milray's  Bostonian  achieved 
a  snub  from  her  by  saying  it  was  like  a  Botticelli ;  and 
in  fact  it  was  merely  the  skirt-dance  which  society 
had  borrowed  from  the  stage  at  that  period,  leaving 
behind  the  footlights  its  more  acrobatic  phases,  but 
keeping  its  pretty  turns  and  bows  and  bends.  Clemen 
tina  did  it  not  only  with  tender  dignity,  but  when  she 
was  fairly  launched  in  it,  with  a  passion  to  which  her 
sense  of  Mrs.  Milray's  strange  unkindness  lent  defi 
ance.  The  dance  was  still  so  new  a  thing  then,  that 
it  had  a  surprise  to  which  the  girl's  gentleness  lent  a 
curious  charm,  and  it  had  some  adventitious  fascina 
tions  from  the  necessity  she  was  in  of  weaving  it  in 
and  out  among  the  stationary  armchairs  and  sofas 
which  still  further  cramped  the  narrow  space  where 
she  gave  it.  Her  own  delight  in  it  shone  from  her 
smiling  face,  which  was  appealingly  happy.  Just  be 
fore  it  should  have  ended,  one  of  those  wandering 
waves  that  roam  the  smoothest  sea  struck  the  ship, 
and  Clementina  caught  herself  skilfully  from  falling, 
and  reeled  to  her  seat,  while  the  room  rang  with  the 
applause  and  sympathetic  laughter  for  the  mischance 
she  had  baffled.  There  was  a  storm  of  encores,  but 
Clementina  called  out,  "  The  ship  tilts  so !  "  and  her 
naivete  won  her  another  burst  of  favor,  which  was  at 
its  height  when  Lord  Lioncourt  had  an  inspiration. 

He  jumped  up  and  said,  "  Miss  Claxon  is  going  to 
oblige  us  with  a  little  bit  of  dramatics,  now,  and  I'm 
sure  you'll  all  enjoy  that  quite  as  much  as  her  beauti 
ful  dancing.  She's  going  to  take  the  principal  part 
in  the  laughable  after-piece  of  Passing  round  the  Hat, 


RAGGED    LADY.  149 

and  I  hope  the  audience  will — a — a — a — do  the  rest. 
She's  consented  on  this  occasion  to  use  a  hat — or  cap, 
rather — of  her  own,  the  charming  Tarn  O'Shanter  in 
which  we've  all  seen  her,  and — a — admired  her  about 
the  ship  for  the  week  past." 

He  caught  up  the  flat  woolen  steamer-cap  which 
Clementina  had  left  in  her  seat  beside  Mrs.  Milray 
when  she  rose  to  dance,  and  held  it  aloft.  Some  one 
called  out,  "  Chorus  !  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow," 
and  led  off  in  his  praise.  Lord  Lioncourt  shouted 
through  the  uproar  the  announcement  that  while  Miss 
Claxon  was  taking  up  the  collection,  Mr.  Ewins,  of 
Boston,  would  sing  one  of  the  student  songs  of  Cam 
bridge — no  !  Harvard — University  ;  the  music  being 
his  own. 

Everyone  wanted  to  make  some  joke  or  some  com 
pliment  to  Clementina  about  the  cap  which  grew 
momently  heavier  under  the  sovereigns  and  half  sov 
ereigns,  half  crowns  and  half  dollars,  shillings,  quar 
ters,  greenbacks  and  every  fraction  of  English  and 
American  silver ;  and  the  actor  who  had  given  the 
imitations,  made  bold,  as  he  said,  to  ask  his  lordship 
if  the  audience  might  not  hope,  before  they  dispersed, 
for  something  more  from  Miss  Claxon.  He  was  sure 
she  could  do  something  more ;  he  for  one  would  be 
glad  of  anything  ;  and  Clementina  turned  from  putting 
her  cap  into  Mrs.  Milray's  lap,  to  find  Lord  Lioncourt 
bowing  at  her  elbow,  and  offering  her  his  arm  to  lead 
her  to  the  spot  where  she  had  stood  in  dancing. 

The  joy  of  her  triumph  went  to  her  head  ;  she 
wished  to  retrieve  herself  from  any  shadow  of  defeat. 


150  11AGGED    LADY. 

She  stood  panting  a  moment,  and  then,  if  she  had  had 
the  professional  instinct,  she  would  have  given  her 
admirers  the  surprise  of  something  altogether  differ 
ent  from  what  had  pleased  them  before.  That  was 
what  the  actor  would  have  done,  but  Clementina 
thought  of  how  her  dance  had  been  brought  to  an 
untimely  close  by  the  rolling  of  the  ship ;  she  burned 
to  do  it  all  as  she  knew  it,  no  matter  how  the  sea  be 
haved,  and  in  another  moment  she  struck  into  it  again. 
This  time  the  sea  behaved  perfectly,  and  the  dance 
ended  with  just  the  swoop  and  swirl  she  had  meant 
it  to  have  at  first.  The  spectators  went  generously 
wild  over  her;  they  cheered  and  clapped  her,  and 
crowded  upon  her  to  tell  how  lovely  it  was ;  but  she 
escaped  from  them,  and  ran  back  to  the  place  where 
she  had  left  Mrs.  Milray.  She  was  not  there,  and 
Clementina's  cap  full  of  alms  lay  abandoned  on  the 
chair.  Lord  Lioncourt  said  he  would  take  charge  of 
the  money,  if  she  would  lend  him  her  cap  to  carry  it 
in  to  the  purser,  and  she  made  her  way  into  the  sa 
loon.  In  a  distant  corner  she  saw  Mrs.  Milray  with 
Mr.  Ewins. 

She  advanced  in  a  vague  dismay  toward  them,  and 
as  she  came  near  Mrs.  Milray  said  to  Mr.  Ewins,  "  I 
don't  like  this  place.  Let's  go  over  yonder."  She 
rose  and  rushed  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  saloon. 

Lord  Lioncourt  came  in  looking  about.  "  Ah,  have 
you  found  her  ? "  he  asked,  gayly.  "  There  were 
twenty  pounds  in  your  cap,  and  two  hundred  dollars." 

"  Yes,"  said  Clementina,  "  she's  over  the'a."  She 
pointed,  and  then  shrank  and  slipped  away. 


XVIII. 

AT  breakfast  Mrs.  Milray  would  not  meet  Clemen 
tina's  eye ;  she  talked  to  the  people  across  the  table 
in  a  loud,  lively  voice,  and  then  suddenly  rose,  and 
swept  past  her  out  of  the  saloon. 

The  girl  did  not  see  her  again  till  Mrs.  Milray  came 
up  on  the  promenade  at  the  hour  when  people  who 
have  eaten  too  much  breakfast  begin  to  spoil  their 
appetite  for  luncheon  with  the  tea  and  bouillon  of  the 
deckstewards.  She  looked  fiercely  about,  and  saw 
Clementina  seated  in  her  usual  place,  but  with  Lord 
Lioncourt  in  her  own  chair  next  her  husband,  and 
Ewins  on  foot  before  her.  They  were  both  talking 
to  Clementina,  whom  Lord  Lioncourt  was  accusing  of 
being  in  low  spirits  unworthy  of  her  last  night's  tri 
umphs.  He  jumped  up,. and  offered  his  place,  "I've 
got  your  chair,  Mrs.  Milray." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  coldly,  "  I  was  just  coming  to 
look  after  Mr.  Milray.  But  I  see  he's  in  good  hands." 

She  turned  away,  as  if  to  make  the  round  of  the 
deck,  and  Ewins  hurried  after  her.  He  came  back 
directly,  and  said  that  Mrs.  Milray  had  gone  into  the 


152  RAGGED    LADY. 

library  to  write  letters.  He  stayed,  uneasily,  trying 
to  talk,  but  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  been 
snubbed,  and  has  not  got  back  his  composure. 

Lord  Lioncourt  talked  on  until  he  had  used  up  the 
incidents  of  the  night  before,  and  the  probabilities  of 
their  getting  into  Queenstown  before  morning ;  then 
he  and  Mr.  Ewins  went  to  the  smoking-room  together, 
and  Clementina  was  left  alone  with  Milray. 

"  Clementina,"  he  said,  gently,  "  I  don't  see  every 
thing  ;  but  isn't  there  some  trouble  between  you  and 
Mrs.  Milray  ? " 

»  Why,  I  don't  know  what  it  can  be,"  answered 
the  girl,  with  trembling  lips.  "I've  been  trying  to 
find  out,  and  I  can't  undastand  it." 

"  Ah,  those  things  are  often  very  obscure,"  said 
Milray,  with  a  patient  smile. 

Clementina  wanted  to  ask  him  if  Mrs.  Milray  had 
said  anything  to  him  about  her,  but  she  could  not, 
and  he  did  not  speak  again  till  he  heard  her  stir  in 
rising  from  her  chair.  Then  he  said,  "  I  haven't  for 
gotten  that  letter  to  my  sister,  Clementina.  I  will 
give  it  to  you  before  we  leave  the  steamer.  Are  you 
going  to  stay  in  Liverpool,  over  night,  or  shall  you  go 
up  to  London  at  once  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  will  depend  upon  how  Mrs. 
Landa  feels." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see  each  other  again.  Don't  be 
worried."  He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  smile,  and  he 
could  not  see  how  forlornly  she  returned  it. 

As  the  day  passed,  Mrs.  Milray's  angry  eyes  seemed 
to  search  her  out  for  scorn  whenever  Clementina 


RAGGED    LADY.  153 

found  herself  the  centre  of  her  last  night's  celebrity. 
Many  people  came  up  and  spoke  to  her,  at  first  with 
a  certain  expectation  of  knowingness  in  her,  which 
her  simplicity  baffled.  Then  they  either  dropped  her, 
and  went  away,  or  stayed  and  tried  to  make  friends 
with  her  because  of  this ;  an  elderly  English  clergy 
man  and  his  wife  were  at  first  compassionately  anxious 
about  her,  and  then  affectionately  attentive  to  her  in 
her  obvious  isolation.  Clementina's  simple-hearted 
response  to  their  advances  appeared  to  win  while  it 
puzzled  them ;  and  they  seemed  trying  to  divine  her 
in  the  strange  double  character  she  wore  to  their  more 
single  civilization.  The  theatrical  people  thought 
none  the  worse  of  her  for  her  simple-heartedness, 
apparently  ;  they  were  both  very  sweet  to  her,  and 
wanted  her  to  promise  to  come  and  see  them  in  their 
little  box  in  St.  John's  Wood.  Once,  indeed,  Clem 
entina  thought  she  saw  relenting  in  Mrs.  Milray's 
glance,  but  it  hardened  again  as  Lord  Lioncourt  and 
Mr.  Ewins  came  up  to  her,  and  began  to  talk  with  her. 
She  could  not  go  to  her  chair  beside  Milray,  for  his 
wife  was  now  keeping  guard  of  him  on  the  other  side 
with  unexampled  devotion.  Lord  Lioncourt  asked 
her  to  walk  with  him  and  she  consented.  She  thought 
that  Mr.  Ewins  would  go  and  sit  by  Mrs.  Milray,  of 
course,  but  when  she  came  round  in  her  tour  of  the 
ship,  Mrs.  Milray  was  sitting  alone  beside  her  husband. 
After  dinner  she  went  to  the  library  and  got  a 
book,  but  she  could  not  read  there ;  every  chair  was 
taken  by  people  writing  letters  to  send  back  from 
Queensto\vn  in  the  morning;  and  she  strayed  into  the 


154  11AGGED    LADY. 

ladies'  sitting  room,  where  no  ladies  seemed  ever  to 
sit,  and  lost  herself  in  a  miserable  muse  over  her  open 

page- 
Some  one  looked  in  at  the  door,  and  then  advanced 
within  and  came  straight  to  Clementina ;  she  knew 
without  looking  up  that  it  was  Mrs.  Milray.  "  I  have 
been  hunting  for  you,  Miss  Claxon,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  frostily  fierce,  and  with  a  bearing  furiously  for 
mal.  "  I  have  a  letter  to  Miss  Milray  that  my  hus 
band  wished  me  to  write  for  you,  and  give  you  with 
his  compliments." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Clementina.  She  rose  mechan 
ically  to  her  feet,  and  at  the  same  time  Mrs.  Milray 
sat  down. 

"  You  will  find  Miss  Milray,"  she  continued,  with 
the  same  glacial  hauteur,  "  a  very  agreeable  and  cul 
tivated  lady." 

Clementina  said  nothing ;  and  Mrs.  Milray  added, 
"  And  I  hope  she  may  have  the  happiness  of  being 
more  useful  to  you  than  I  have." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Milray  ? "  Clementina 
asked  with  unexpected  spirit  and  courage. 

"  I  mean  simply  this,  that  I  have  not  succeeded  in 
putting  you  on  your  guard  against  your  love  of  ad 
miration — especially  the  admiration  of  gentlemen.  A 
young  girl  can't  be  too  careful  how  she  accepts  the 
attentions  of  gentlemen,  and  if  she  seems  to  invite 
them  "— 

"  Mrs.  Milray  !  "  cried  Clementina.  "  How  can  you 
say  such  a  thing  to  me  ? " 

"  How  ?     I  shall  have  to  be  plain  with  you,  I  see. 


BAGGED    LADY.  155 

Perhaps  I  have  not  considered  that,  after  all,  you  know 
nothing  about  life  and  are  not  to  blame  for  things 
that  a  person  born  and  bred  in  the  world  would  un 
derstand  from  childhood.  If  you  don't  know  already, 
I  can  tell  you  that  the  way  you  have  behaved  with 
Lord  Lioncourt  during  the  last  two  or  three  days,  and 
the  way  you  showed  your  pleasure  the  other  night  in 
his  ridiculous  flatteries  of  you,  was  enough  to  make 
you  the  talk  of  the  whole  steamer.  I  advise  you  for 
your  own  sake  to  take  my  warning  in  time.  You  are 
very  young,  and  inexperienced  and  ignorant,  but  that 
will  not  save  you  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  if  you  keep 
on."  Mrs.  Milray  rose.  "  And  now  I  will  leave  you 
to  think  of  what  I  have  said.  Here  is  the  letter  for 
Miss  Milray  "— 

Clementina  shook  her  head.      "  I  don't  want  it." 

"  You  don't  want  it  ?  But  I  have  written  it  at  Mr. 
Milray's  request,  and  I  shall  certainly  leave  it  with 
you  "— 

"  If  you  do,"  said  Clementina,  "  I  shall  not  take 
it!" 

"  And  what  shall  I  say  to  Mr.  Milray  ? " 

"  What  you  have  just  said  to  me." 

"  What  have  I  said  to  you  ?  " 

"  That  I'm  a  bold  girl,  and  that  I've  tried  to  make 
men  admi'a  me." 

Mrs.  Milray  stopped  as  if  suddenly  daunted  by  a 
fact  that  had  not  occurred  to  her  before.  "  Did  I  say 
that?" 

"  The  same  as  that," 

"  I  didn't  mean  that — I — merely  meant  to  put  you 


156  RAGGED    LADY. 

on  your  guard.  It  may  be  because  you  are  so  inno 
cent  yourself,  that  you  can't  imagine  what  others 
think,  and — I  did  it  out  of  my  regard  for  you." 

Clementina  did  not  answer. 

Mrs.  Milray  went  on,  "  That  was  why  I  was  so  pro 
voked  with  you.  I  think  that  for  a  young  girl  to 
stand  up  and  dance  alone  before  a  whole  steamer  full 
of  strangers " —  Clementina  looked  at  her  without 
speaking,  and  Mrs.  Milray  hastened  to  say,  "To  be 
sure  I  advised  you  to  do  it,  but  I  certainly  was  sur 
prised  that  you  should  give  an  encore.  But  no  mat 
ter,  now.  This  letter  "— 

"  I  can't  take  it,  Mrs.  Milray,"  said  Clementina, 
with  a  swelling  heart. 

"  Now,  listen  !"  urged  Mrs.  Milray.  "You  think 
I'm  just  saying  it  because,  if  you  don't  take  it  I  shall 
have  to  tell  Mr.  Milray  I  was  so  hateful  to  you,  you 
couldn't.  Well,  I  should  hate  to  tell  him  that ;  but 
that  isn't  the  reason.  There  !  "  She  tore  the  letter 
in  pieces,  and  threw  it  on  the  floor.  Clementina  did 
not  make  any  sign  of  seeing  this,  and  Mrs.  Milray 
dropped  upon  her  chair  again.  "  Oh,  how  hard  yoil 
are  !  Can't  you  say  something  to  me  ?  " 

Clementina  did  not  lift  her  eyes.  "  I  don't  feel 
like  saying  anything  just  now." 

Mrs.  Milray  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  she  sighed. 
"  Well,  you  may  hate  me,  but  I  shall  always  be  your 
friend.  What  hotel  are  you  going  to  in  Liverpool  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina. 

"  You  had  better  come  to  the  one  where  we  go. 
I'm  afraid  Mrs.  Lander  won't  know  how  to  manage 


I 


RAGGED    LADY. 


very  well,  and  we've  been  in  Liverpool  so  often.  May 
I  speak  to  her  about  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  to,"  Clementina  coldly  assented. 

"  I  see  !  "  said  Mrs.  Milray.  "  You  don't  want  to 
be  under  the  same  roof  with  me.  Well,  you  needn't ! 
But  I'll  tell  you  a  good  hotel :  the  one  that  the  trains 
start  out  of  ;  and  I'll  send  you  that  letter  for  Miss 
Milray."  Clementina  was  silent.  "Well,  I'll  send 
it,  anyway." 

Mrs.  Milray  went  away  in  sudden  tears,  but  the  girl 
remained  dry-eyed. 


XIX. 

MRS.  Lander  realized  when  the  ship  came  to  anchor' 
in  the  stream  at  Liverpool  that  she  had  not  been  sea 
sick  a  moment  during  the  voyage.  In  the  brisk  cold 
of  the  winter  morning,  as  they  came  ashore  in  the 
tug,  she  fancied  a  property  of  health  in  the  European 
atmosphere,  which  she  was  sure  would  bring  her  right 
up,  if  she  stayed  long  enough ;  and  a  regret  that  she 
had  never  tried  it  with  Mr.  Lander  mingled  with  her 
new  hopes  for  herself. 

But  Clementina  looked  with  home-sick  eyes  at  the 
strangeness  of  the  alien  scene :  the  pale,  low  heaven 
which  seemed  not  to  be  clouded  and  yet  was  so  dim ; 
the  flat  shores  with  the  little  railroad  trains  running 
in  and  out  over  them ;  the  grimy  bulks  of  the  city, 
and  the  shipping  in  the  river,  sparse  and  sombre  after 
the  gay  forest  of  sails  and  stacks  at  New  York. 

She  did  not  see  the  Milrays  after  she  left  the  tug, 
in  the  rapid  dispersal  of  the  steamer's  passengers. 
They  both  took  leave  of  her  at  the  dock,  and  Mrs. 
Milray  whispered  with  penitence  in  her  voice  and  eyes, 
"  I  will  write,"  but  the  girl  did  not  answer. 

Before    Mrs.   Lander's   trunks  and   her  own  were 


RAGGED    LADY.  159 

passed,  she  saw  Lord  Lioncourt  going  away  with  his 
heavily  laden  man  at  his  heels.  Mr.  Ewins  came  up 
to  see  if  he  could  help  her  through  the  customs,  but 
she  believed  that  he  had  come  at  Mrs.  Milray's  bid 
ding,  and  she  thanked  him  so  prohibitively  that  he 
could  not  insist.  The  English  clergyman  who  had 
spoken  to  her  the  morning  after  the  charity  entertain 
ment  left  his  wife  with  Mrs.  Lander,  and  came  to  her 
help,  and  then  Mr.  Ewins  went  his  way. 

The  clergyman,  who  appeared  to  feel  the  friend- 
lessness  of  the  young  girl  and  the  old  woman  a  charge 
laid  upon  him,  bestowed  a  sort  of  fatherly  protection 
upon  them  both.  He  advised  them  to  stop  at  a  hotel 
for  a  few  hours  and  take  the  later  train  for  London 
that  he  and  his  wife  were  going  up  by ;  they  drove  to 
the  hotel  together,  wliere  Mrs.  Lander  could  not  be 
kept  from  paying  the  omnibus,  and  made  them  have 
luncheon  with  her.  '  &he  allowed  the  clergyman  to 
get  her  tickets,  and  she  could  not  believe  that  he  had 
taken  second  class  tickets  for  himself  and  his  wife. 
She  said  that  she  had  never  heard  of  anyone  travelling 
second '  class  before,  and  she  assured  him  that  they 
never  did  it  in  America.  She  begged  him  to  let  her 
pay  the  difference,  and  bring  his  wife  into  her  com 
partment,  which  the  guard  had  reserved  for  her.  She 
urged  that  the  money  was  nothing  to  her,  compared 
with  the  comfort  of  being  with  some  one  you  knew ; 
and  the  clergyman  had  to  promise  that  as  they  should 
be  neighbors,  he  would  look  in  upon  her,  whenever 
the  train  stopped  long  enough. 

Before  it  began  to  move,  Clementina  thought  she 


160  RAGGED    LADY. 

saw  Lord  Lioncourt  hurrying  past  tlieir  carriage-win 
dow.  At  Rugby  the  clergyman  appeared,  but  almost 
before  he  could  speak,  Lord  Lioncourt's  little  red  face 
showed  at  his  elbow.  He  asked  Clementina  to  pre 
sent  him  to  Mrs.  Lander,  who  pressed  him  to  get  into 
her  compartment;  the  clergyman  vanished,  and  Lord 
Lioncourt  yielded. 

Mrs.  Lander  found  him  able  to  tell  her  the  best 
way  to  get  to  Florence,  whose  situation  lie  seemed  to 
know  perfectly ;  he  confessed  that  he  had  been  there 
rather  often.  He  made  out  a  little  itinerary  for  going 
straight  through  by  sleeping-car  as  soon  as  you  crossed 
the  Channel;  she  had  said  that  she  always  liked  a 
through  train  when  she  could  get  it,  and  the  less  stops 
the  better.  She  bade  Clementina  take  charge  of  the 
plan  and  not  lose  it ;  without  it  she  did  not  see  what 
they  could  do.  She  conceived  of  him  as  a  friend  of 
Clementina's,  and  she  lost  in  the  strange  environment 
the  shyness  she  had  with  most  people.  She  told  him 
how  Mr.  Lander  had  made  his  money,  and  from  what 
beginnings  he  rose  to  be  ignorant  of  what  he  really 
was  worth  when  he  died.  She  dwelt  upon  the  dis 
eases  they  had  suffered,  and  at  the  thought  of  his 
death,  so  unnecessary  in  view  of  the  good  that  the 
air  was  already  doing  her  in  Europe,  she  shed  tears. 

Lord  Lioncourt  was  very  polite,  but  there  was  no 
resumption  of  the  ship's  comradery  in  his  manner. 
Clementina  could  not  know  how  quickly  this  always 
drops  from  people  who  have  been  fellow-passengers ; 
and  she  wondered  if  he  were  guarding  himself  from 
her  because  she  had  danced  at  the  charity  entertain- 


RAGGED    LADY.  161 

mcnt.     The  poison  which  Mrs.   Milray   had  instilled 
worked  in  her  thoughts  while  she  could  not  help  seeing 
how  patient  he  was  with  all  Mrs.  Lander's  questions ; 
he  answered  them  with  a  simplicity  of  his  own,  or 
laughed  and  put  them  by,  when  they  were  quite  im 
possible.     Many  of  them  related  to  the  comparative 
merits  of  English  and  American  railroads,  and  what 
he  thought  himself  of  these.     Mrs.  Lander  noted  the 
difference  of  the  English  stations ;  but  she  did  not  see 
much  in  the  landscape  to  examine  him  upon.     She 
required  him  to  tell  her  why  the  rooks  they  saw  were 
not  crows,  and  she  was  not  satisfied  that  he  should 
say  the    country  seat   she  pointed  out  was  a  castle 
when  it  was  plainly  deficient  in  battlements.       She 
based  upon  his  immovable  confidence  in  respect  to  it 
an  inquiry  into  the  structure  of  English  society,  and 
she  made  him  tell  her  what  a  lord  was,  and  a  com 
moner,  and  how  the  royal  family  differed  from  both. 
She  asked  him  how  he  came  to  be  a  lord,  and  when 
he  said  that  it  was  a  peerage  of  George  the  Third's 
creation,  she  remembered  that  George  III.  was  the 
one  we  took  up  arms  against.      She  found  that  Lord 
Lioncourt  knew  of  our  revolution  generally,  but  was 
ignorant  of  such  particulars  as  the  Battle  of  Bunker 
Hill,  and  the  Surrender  of  Cornwallis,  as  well  as  the 
throwing  of  the  Tea  into  Boston  Harbor  ;  he  was  much 
struck  by  this  incident,  and  said,  And  quite  right,  he 
was  sure. 

He  told  Clementina  that  her  friends  the   Milrays 
had  taken  the  steamer  for  London  in  the  morning. 
He  believed  they  were  going  to  Egypt  for  the  winter. 
K 


162  RAGGED    LADY. 

Cairo,  he  said,  was  great  fun,  and  he  advised  Mrs. 
Lander,  if  she  found  Florence  a  bit  dull,  to  push  on 
there.  She  asked  if  it  was  an  easy  place  to  get  to, 
and  he  assured  her  that  it  was  very  easy  from  Italy. 

Mrs.  Lander  was  again  at  home  in  her  world  of 
railroads  and  hotels;  but  she  confessed,  after  he  left 
them  at  the  next  station,  that  she  should  have  felt 
more  at  home  if  he  had  been  going  on  to  London 
with  them.  She  philosophized  him  to  the  disadvan 
tage  of  her  own  countrymen  as  much  less  offish  than 
a  great  many  New  York  and  Boston  people.  He  had 
given  her  a  good  opinion  of  the  whole  English  nation ; 
and  the  clergyman,  who  had  been  so  nice  to  them  at 
Liverpool,  confirmed  her  friendly  impressions  of  Eng 
land  by  getting  her  a  small  omnibus  at  the  station  in 
London  before  he  got  a  cab  for  himself  and  his  wife, 
and  drove  away  to  complete  his  own  journey  on  an 
other  road.  She  celebrated  the  omnibus  as  if  it  were 
an  effect  of  his  goodness  in  her  behalf.  She  admired 
its  capacity  for  receiving  all  their  trunks,  and  saving 
the  trouble  and  delay  of  the  express,  which  always 
vexed  her  so  much  in  New  York,  and  which  had 
nearly  failed  in  getting  her  baggage  to  the  steamer  in 
time. 

The  omnibus  remained  her  chief  association  with 
London,  for  she  decided  to  take  the  first  through 
train  for  Italy  in  the  morning.  She  wished  to  be  set 
tled,  by  which  she  meant  placed  in  a  Florentine  hotel 
for  the  winter.  That  lord,  as  she  now  began  and 
always  continued  to  call  Lioncourt,  had  first  given  her 
the  name  of  the  best  little  hotel  in  Florence,  but  as  it 


RAGGED    LADY.  163 

had  neither  elevator  nor  furnace  heat  in  it,  he  agreed 
in  the  end  that  it  would  not  do  for  her,  and  mentioned 
the  most  modern  and  expensive  house  on  the  Lungar- 
no.  He  told  her  he  did  not  think  she  need  telegraph 
for  rooms ;  but  she  took  this  precaution  before  leaving 
London,  and  was  able  to  secure  them  at  a  price  which 
seemed  to  her  quite  as  much  as  she  would  have  had 
to  pay  for  the  same  rooms  at  a  first  class  hotel  on  the 
Back  Bay. 

The  manager  had  reserved  for  her  one  of  the  best 
suites,  which  had  just  been  vacated  by  a  Russian 
princess.  "  I  guess  you  better  cable  to  your  folks 
where  you  ah',  Clementina,"  she  said.  "  Because  if 
you're  satisfied,  I  am,  and  I  presume  we  sha'n't  want 
to  change  as  long  as  we  stay  in  Florence.  My,  but 
it's  sightly  !  "  She  joined  Clementina  a  moment  at 
the  windows  looking  upon  the  Arno,  and  the  hills  be 
yond  it.  "  I  guess  you'll  spend  most  of  your  time 
settin'  at  this  winder,  and  I  sha'n't  blame  you." 

They  had  arrived  late  in  the  dull,  soft  winter  after 
noon.  The  landlord  led  the  way  himself  to  their 
apartment,  and  asked  if  they  would  have  fire;  a 
facchino  came  in  and  kindled  roaring  blazes  on  the 
hearths;  at  the  same  time  a  servant  lighted  all  the 
candles  on  the  tables  and  mantels.  They  both  grace 
fully  accepted  the  fees  that  Mrs.  Lander  made  Clem 
entina  give  them  ;  the  facchino  kissed  the  girl's  hand. 
"  My  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lander.  "  I  guess  you  never  had 
your  hand  kissed  before." 

The  hotel  developed  advantages  which,  if  not  those 
she  was  used  to,  were  still  advantages.  The  halls 


164  RAGGED    LADY, 

were  warmed  by  a  furnace,  and  she  came  to  like  the 
little  logs  burning  in  her  rooms.  In  the  care  of  her 
own  fire,  she  went  back  to  the  simple  time  of  her  life 
in  the  country,  and  chose  to  kindle  it  herself  when  it 
died  out,  with  the  fagots  of  broom  that  blazed  up  so 
briskly. 

In  the  first  days  of  her  stay  she  made  inquiry  for 
the  best  American  doctor  in  Florence ;  and  she  found 
him  so  intelligent  that  she  at  once  put  her  liver  in  his 
charge,  with  a  history  of  her  diseases  and  symptoms 
of  every  kind.  She  told  him  that  she  was  sure  that 
he  could  have  cured  Mr.  Lander,  if  he  had  only  had 
him  in  time  ;  she  exacted  a  new  prescription  from  him 
for  herself,  and  made  him  order  some  quinine  pills 
for  Clementina  against  the  event  of  her  feeling  debil 
itated  by  the  air  of  Florence. 


XX. 

IN  these  first  days  a  letter  came  to  Clementina  from 
Mrs.  Lander's  banker,  enclosing  the  introduction 
which  Mrs.  Milray  had  promised  to  her  sister-in-law. 
It  was  from  Mr.  Milray,  as  before,  and  it  was  in  Mrs. 
Milray's  handwriting  ;  but  no  message  from  her  came 
with  it.  To  Clementina  it  explained  itself,  but  she 
had  to  explain  it  to  Mrs.  Lander.  She  had  to  tell  her 
of  Mrs.  Milray's  behavior  after  the  entertainment  on 
the  steamer,  and  Mrs.  Lander  said  that  Clementina 
had  done  just  exactly  right ;  and  they  both  decided, 
against  some  impulses  of  curiosity  in  Clementina's 
heart,  that  she  should  not  make  use  of  the  introduc 
tion. 

The  Hotel  des  Financieres  was  mainly  frequented 
by  rich  Americans  full  of  ready  money,  and  by  rich 
Russians  of  large  credit.  Better  Americans  and 
worse,  went,  like  the  English,  to  smaller  and  cheaper 
hotels ;  and  Clementina's  acquaintance  was  confined 
to  mothers  as  shy  and  ungrammatical  as  Mrs.  Lander 
herself,  and  daughters  blankly  indifferent  to  her. 
Mrs.  Lander  drove  out  every  day  when  it  did  not  rain, 
and  she  took  Clementina  with  her,  because  the  doctor 


166  RAGGED    LADY. 

said  it  would  do  them  both  good ;  but  otherwise  the 
girl  remained  pent  in  their  apartment.  The  doctor 
found  her  a  teacher,  and  she  kept  on  with  her  French, 
and  began  to  take  lessons  in  Italian ;  she  spoke  with 
no  one  but  her  teacher,  except  when  the  doctor  came. 
At  the  table  d'hote  she  heard  talk  of  the  things  that 
people  seemed  to  come  to  Florence  for:  pictures, 
statues,  palaces,  famous  places;  and  it  made  her 
ashamed  of  not  knowing  about  them.  But  she  could 
not  go  to  see  these  things  alone,  and  Mrs.  Lander,  in 
the  content  she  felt  with  all  her  circumstances,  seemed 
not  to  suppose  that  Clementina  could  care  for  any 
thing  but  the  comfort  of  the  hotel  and  the  doctor's 
visits.  When  the  girl  began  to  get  letters  from  home 
in  answer  to  the  first  she  had  written  back,  boasting 
how  beautiful  Florence  was,  they  assumed  that  she 
was  very  gay,  and  demanded  full  accounts  of  her 
pleasures.  Her  brother  Jim  gave  something  of  the 
village  news,  but  he  said  he  supposed  that  she  would 
not  care  for  that,  and  she  would  probably  be  too 
proud  to  speak  to  them  when  she  came  home.  The 
Richlings  had  called  in  to  share  the  family  satisfac 
tion  in  Clementina's  first  experiences,  and  Mrs.  Rich- 
ling  wrote  her  very  sweetly  of  their  happiness  in 
them.  She  charged  her  from  the  rector  not  to  forget 
any  chance  of  self-improvement  in  the  allurements  of 
society,  but  to  make  the  most  of  her  rare  opportuni 
ties.  She  said  that  they  had  got  a  guide-book  to 
Florence,  with  a  plan  of  the  city,  and  were  following 
her  in  the  expeditions  they  decided  she  must  be  mak 
ing  every  day ;  they  were  reading  up  the  Florentine 


RAGGED    LADY.  167 

history  in  Sismondi's  Italian  Republics,  and  she  bade 
Clementina  be  sure  and  see  all  the  scenes  of  Savona 
rola's  martyrdom,  so  that  they  could  talk  them  over 
together  when  she  returned. 

Clementina  wondered  what  Mrs.  Richling  would 
think  if  she  told  her  that  all  she  knew  of  Florence 
was  what  she  overheard  in  the  talk  of  the  girls  in  the 
hotel,  who  spoke  before  her  of  their  dances  and  after 
noon  teas,  and  evenings  at  the  opera,  and  drives  in 
the  Cascine,  and  parties  to  Fiesole,  as  if  she  were  not 

by. 

The  days  and  weeks  passed,  until  Carnival  was  half 
gone,  and  Mrs.  Lander  noticed  one  day  that  Clemen 
tina  appeared  dull.  "  You  don't  seem  to  get  much 
acquainted  ?  "  she  suggested. 

"  Oh,  the'e's  plenty  of  time,"  said  Clementina. 

"  I  wish  the'e  was  somebody  you  could  go  round 
with,  and  see  the  place.  Shouldn't  you  like  to  see 
the  place  ? "  Mrs.  Lander  pursued. 

"  There's  no  hurry  about  it,  Mrs.  Lander.  It  will 
stay  as  long  as  we  do." 

Mrs.  Lander  was  thoughtfully  silent.  Then  she 
said,  "  I  declare,  I've  got  half  a  mind  to  make  you 
send  that  letta  to  Miss  Milray,  after  all.  What  dif 
ference  if  Mrs.  Milray  did  act  so  ugly  to  you  \  He 
never  did,  and  she's  his  sista." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  send  it,  Mrs.  Landa;  you 
mustn't  ask  me  to.  I  shall  get  along,"  said  Clemen 
tina.  The  recognition  of  her  forlornness  deepened 
it,  but  she  was  checrfuller,  for  no  reason,  the  next 
morning ;  and  that  afternoon,  the  doctor  unexpectedly 


168  RAGGED    LADY. 

came  upon  a  call  which  he  made  haste  to  say  was  not 
professional. 

"  I've  just  come  from  another  patient  of  mine,  and 
I  promised  to  ask  if  you  had  not  crossed  on  the  same 
ship  with  a  brother  of  hers, — Mr.  Milray." 

Clementina  and  Mrs.  Lander  looked  guiltily  at  each 
other.  "  I  guess  we  did,"  Mrs.  Lander  owned  at  last, 
with  a  reluctant  sigh. 

"  Then,  she  says  you  have  a  letter  for  her." 

The  doctor  spoke  to  both,  but  his  looks  confessed 
that  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  when  Mrs.  Lander 
admitted,  "  Well  Clementina,  he'e,  has." 

"  She  wants  to  know  why  you  haven't  delivered  it," 
the  doctor  blurted  out. 

Mrs.  Lander  looked  at  Clementina.  "  I  guess  she 
ha'n't  quite  got  round  to  it  yet,  have  you,  Clemen 
tina  ? " 

The  doctor  put  in  :  "  Well,  Miss  Milray  is  rather  a 
dangerous  person  to  keep  waiting.  If  you  don't  de 
liver  it  pretty  soon,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she 
came  to  get  it."  Dr.  Welwright  was  a  young  man  in 
the  early  thirties,  with  a  laugh  that  a  great  many 
ladies  said  had  done  more  than  any  one  thing  for 
them,  and  he  now  prescribed  it  for  Clementina.  But 
it  did  not  seem  to  help  her  in  the  trouble  her  face 
betrayed. 

Mrs.  Lander  took  the  word,  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  say 
it  to  everybody.  But  you're  our  doctor,  and  I  guess 
you  won't  mind  it.  We  don't  like  the  way  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray  acted  to  Clementina,  in  the  ship,  and  we  don't 
want  to  be  beholden  to  any  of  her  folks.  I  don't 


RAGGED    LADY.  169 

know  as  Clementina  wants  me  to  tell  you  just  what  it 
was,  and  I  won't ;  but  that's  the  long  and  sho't  of  it." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  the  doctor  said.  .  "  I've  never  met 
Mrs.  Milray,  but  Miss  Milray  has  such  a  pleasant 
house,  and  likes  to  get  young  people  about  her.  There 
are  a  good  many  young  people  in  your  hotel,  though, 
and  I  suppose  you  all  have  a  very  good  time  here  to 
gether."  He  ended  by  speaking  to  Clementina,  and 
now  he  said  he  had  done  his  errand,  and  must  be 
going. 

When  he  was  gone,  Mrs.  Lander  faltered,  "  I  don't 
know  but  what  we  made  a  mistake,  Clementina." 

"  It's  too  late  to  worry  about  it  now,"  said  the  girl. 

"  We  ha'n't  bound  to  stay  in  Florence,"  said  Mrs. 
Lander,  thoughtfully.  "  I  only  took  the  rooms  by  the 
week,  and  we  can  go,  any  time,  Clementina,  if  you  are 
uncomf'table  bein'  here  on  Miss  Milray's  account. 
We  could  go  to  Rome  ;  they  say  Home's  a  nice  place  ; 
or  to  Egypt." 

"  Mrs.  Milray's  in  Egypt,"  Clementina  suggested. 

"  That's  true,"  Mrs.  Lander  admitted,  with  a  sigh. 
After  a  while  she  went  on,  "  I  don't  know  as  we've 
got  any  right  to  keep  the  letter.  It  belongs  to  her, 
don't  it  3 " 

"  I  guess  it  belongs  to  me,  as  much  as  it  does  to 
her,"  said  Clementina.  "  If  it's  to  her,  it's  for  me. 
I  am  not  going  to  send  it,  Mrs.  Landa." 

They  were  still  in  this  conclusion  when  early  in  the 
following  afternoon  Miss  Milray's  cards  were  brought 
up  for  Mrs.  Lander  and  Miss  Claxon. 

"Well,    I    decla'e!"    cried    Mrs.    Lander.     "That 


170  RAGGED    LADY. 

docta  must  have  gone  straight  and  told  her  what  we 
said." 

"  He  had  no  right  to,"  said  Clementina,  but  neither 
of  them  was  displeased,  and  after  it  was  over,  Mrs. 
Lander  said  that  any  one  would  have  thought  the  call 
was  for  her,  instead  of  Clementina,  from  the  way  Miss 
Milray  kept  talking  to  her.  She  formed  a  high  opin 
ion  of  her;  and  Miss  Milray  put  Clementina  in  mind 
of  Mr.  Milray ;  she  had  the  same  hair  of  chiseled  sil 
ver,  and  the  same  smile;  she  moved  like  him,  and 
talked  like  him ;  but  with  a  greater  liveliness.  She 
asked  fondly  after  him,  and  made  Clementina  tell  her 
if  he  seemed  quite  well,  and  in  good  spirits;  she  was 
civilly  interested  in  Mrs.  Milray's  health.  At  the 
embarrassment  which  showed  itself  in  the  girl,  she 
laughed  and  said,  "  Don't  imagine  I  don't  know  all 
about  it,  Miss  Claxon  !  My  sister-in-law  has  owned 
up  very  handsomely ;  she  isn't  half  bad,  as  the  English 
say,  and  I  think  she  likes  owning  up  if  she  can  do  it 
safely." 

"  And  you  don't  think,"  asked  Mrs.  Lander,  "  that 
Clementina  done  wrong  to  dance  that  way  ? " 

Clementina  blushed,  and  Miss  Milray  laughed  again. 
"  If  you'll  let  Miss  Claxon  come  to  a  little  party  I'm 
giving  she  may  do  her  dance  at  my  house ;  but  she 
sha'n't  be  obliged  to  do  it,  or  anything  she  doesn't 
like.  Don't  say  she  hasn't  a  gown  ready,  or  some 
thing  of  that  kind  !  You  don't  know  the  resources  of 
Florence,  and  how  the  dress  makers  here  doat  upon 
doing  impossible  things  in  no  time  at  all,  and  being 
ready  before  they  promise.  If  you'll  put  Miss  Claxon 


RAGGED    LADY.  171 

in  my  hands,  I'll  see  that  she's  dressed  for  my  dance. 
I  live  out  on  one  of  the  hills  over  there,  that  you  see 
from  your  windows" — she  nodded  toward  them — "  in 
a  beautiful  villa,  too  cold  for  winter,  and  too  hot  for 
summer,  but  I  think  Miss  Claxon  can  endure  its  dis 
comfort  for  a  day,  if  you  can  spare  her,  and  she  will 
consent  to  leave  you  to  the  tender  mercies  of  your 
maid,  and" — 

Miss  Milray  paused  at  the  kind  of  unresponsive 
blank  to  which  she  found  herself  talking,  and  put  up 
her  lorgnette,  to  glance  from  Mrs.  Lander  to  Clemen 
tina.  The  girl  said,  with  embarrassment,  "  I  don't 
think  I  ought  to  leave  Mrs.  Landa,  just  now.  She 
isn't  very  well,  and  I  shouldn't  like  to  leave  her 
alone." 

"But  we're  just  as  much  obliged  to  you  as  if  she 
could  come,"  Mrs.  Lander  interrupted ;  "  and  later  on, 
maybe  she  can.  You  see,  we  ha'n't  got  any  maid, 
yit.  Well,  we  did  have  one  at  Woodlake,  but  she 
made  us  do  so  many  things  for  her,  that  we  thought 
we  should  like  to  do  a  few  things  for  ouaselves, 
awhile." 

If  Miss  Milray  perhaps  did  not  conceive  the  situa 
tion,  exactly,  she  said,  Oh,  they  were  quite  right  in 
that ;  but  she  might  count  upon  Miss  Claxon  for  her 
dance,  might  not  she ;  and  might  not  she  do  anything 
in  her  power  for  them  ?  She  rose  to  go,  but  Mrs. 
Lander  took  her  at  her  word,  so  far  as  to  say,  Why, 
yes,  if  she  could  tell  Clementina  the  best  place  to  get 
a  dress  she  guessed  the  child  would  be  glad  enough 
to  come  to  the  dance. 


172  KAGGED    LADY. 

"Tell  her!"  Miss  Milray  cried.  "I'll  take  her! 
Put  on  your  hat,  my  dear,"  she  said  to  Clementina, 
"  and  come  with  me  now.  My  carriage  is  at  your 
door." 

Clementina  looked  at  Mrs.  Lander,  who  said,  "  Go, 
of  cou'se,  child.  I  wish  I  could  go,  too." 

"  Do  come,  too,"  Miss  Milray  entreated. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Lander,  nattered.  "  I  a'n't 
feeling  very  well,  to-day.  I  guess  I'm  better  off  at 
home.  But  don't  you  hurry  back  on  my  account, 
Clementina."  While  the  girl  was  gone  to  put  on  her 
hat  she  talked  on  about  her.  "  She's  the  best  gul  in 
the  wo'ld,  and  she  won't  be  one  of  the  poorest ;  and 
I  shall  feel  that  I'm  doin'  just  what  Mr.  Landa  would 
have  wanted  I  should.  He  picked  her  out  himself,  moa 
than  three  yea's  ago,  when  we  was  drivin'  past  her 
house  at  Middlemount,  and  it  was  to  humor  him  afta 
he  was  gone,  moa  than  anything  else,  that  I  took  her. 
Well,  she  wa'n't  so  very  easy  to  git,  either,  I  can  tell 
you."  She  cut  short  her  history  of  the  affair  to  say 
when  Clementina  came  back,  "  I  want  you  should  do 
the  odderin'  yourself,  Miss  Milray,  and  not  let  her 
scrimp  with  the  money.  She  wants  to  git  some  vis- 
itin'  cahds ;  and  if  you  miss  anything  about  her  that 
she'd  ought  to  have,  or  that  any  otha  young  lady's 
got,  won't  you  just  git  it  for  her?  " 


XXI. 

As  soon  as  she  imagined  the  case,  Miss  Milray  set 
herself  to  overcome  Mrs.  Lander's  reluctance  from  a 
maid.  She  prevailed  with  her  to  try  the  Italian  wo 
man  whom  she  sent  her,  and  in  a  day  the  genial  Mad- 
dalena  had  effaced  the  whole  tradition  of  the  bleak 
Ellida.  It  was  not  essential  to  the  understanding 
which  instantly  established  itself  between  them  that 
they  should  have  any  language  in  common.  They 
babbled  at  each  other,  Mrs.  Lander  in  her  Bostonized 
Yankee,  and  Maddalena  in  her  gutteral  Florentine,  and 
Mrs.  Lander  was  flattered  to  find  how  well  she  knew 
Italian. 

Miss  Milray  had  begun  being  nice  to  Clementina  in 
fealty  to  her  brother,  who  so  seldom  made  any  proof 
of  her  devotion  to  him,  and  to  whom  she  had  remained 
passionately  true  through  his  shady  past.  She  was 
eager  to  humor  his  whim  for  the  little  country  girl 
who  had  taken  his  fancy,  because  it  was  his  whim, 
and  not  because  she  had  any  hopes  that  Clementina 
would  justify  it.  She  had  made  Dr.  Welwright  tell 
her  all  he  knew  about  her,  and  his  report  of  her  grace 
\md  beauty  had  piqued  her  curiosity ;  his  account  of 


174  RAGGED    LADY. 

the  forlorn  dullness  of  her  life  with  Mrs.  Lander  in 
their  hotel  had  touched  her  heart.  But  she  was  still 
skeptical  when  she  went  to  get  her  letter  of  introduc 
tion  ;  when  she  brought  Clementina  home  from  the 
dressmaker's  she  asked  if  she  might  kiss  her,  and  said 
she  was  already  in  love  with  her. 

Her  love  might  have  made  her  wish  to  do  every 
thing  for  her  that  she  now  began  to  do,  but  it  sim 
plified  the  situation  to  account  for  her  to  the  world  as 
the  ward  of  Mrs.  Lander,  who  was  as  rich  as  she  was 
vulgar,  and  it  was  with  Clementina  in  this  character 
that  Miss  Milray  began  to  make  the  round  of  after 
noon  teas,  and  inspired  invitations  for  her  at  pleasant 
houses,  by  giving  a  young  ladies'  lunch  for  her  at  her 
own.  Before  the  night  of  her  little  dance,  she  had  lost 
any  misgiving  she  had  felt  at  first,  in  the  delight  of 
seeing  Clementina  take  the  world  as  if  she  had  thought 
it  would  always  behave  as  amiably  as  that,  and  as  if 
she  had  forgotten  her  unkind  experiences  to  the  con 
trary.  She  knew  from  Mrs.  Lander  how  the  girls  at 
their  hotel  had  left  her  out,  but  Miss  Milray  could  not 
see  that  Clementina  met  them  with  rancor,  when  her 
authority  brought  them  together.  If  the  child  was 
humiliated  by  her  past  in  the  gross  lonely  luxury  of 
Mrs.  Lander's  life  or  the  unconscious  poverty  of  her 
own  home,  she  did  not  show  it  in  the  presence  of 
the  world  that  now  opened  its  arms  to  her.  She 
remained  so  tranquil  in  the  midst  of  all  the  novel  dif 
ferences,  that  it  made  her  friend  feel  rather  vulgar  in 
her  anxieties  for  her,  and  it  was  not  always  enough  to 
find  that  she  had  not  gone  wrong  simply  because  she 


RAGGED    LADY.  175 

had  held  still,  and  had  the  gift  of  waiting  for  things 
to  happen.  Sometimes  when  Miss  Milray  had  almost 
decided  that  her  passivity  was  the  calm  of  a  savage, 
she  betrayed  so  sweet  and  grateful  a  sense  of  all  that 
was  done  for  her,  that  her  benefactress  decided  that 
she  was  not  rustic,  but  was  sylvan  in  a  way  of  her 
own,  and  not  so  much  ignorant  as  innocent.  She 
discovered  that  she  was  not  ignorant  even  of  books, 
but  with  no  literary  effect  from  them  she  had  trans 
mitted  her  reading  into  the  substance  of  her  native 
gentleness,  and  had  both  ideas  and  convictions. 
When  Clementina  most  affected  her  as  an  untried 
wilderness  in  the  conventional  things  she  most  felt 
her  equality  to  any  social  fortune  that  might  befall 
her,  and  then  she  would  have  liked  to  see  her  married 
to  a  title,  and  taking  the  glory  of  this  world  with  an 
unconsciousness  that  experience  would  never  wholly 
penetrate.  But  then  again  she  felt  that  this  would  be 
somehow  a  profanation,  and  she  wanted  to  pack  her 
up  and  get  her  back  to  Middlemount  before  anything 
of  the  kind  should  happen.  She  gave  Milray  these 
impressions  of  Clementina  in  the  letter  she  wrote  to 
thank  him  for  her,  and  to  scold  him  for  sending  the 
girl  to  her.  She  accused  him  of  wishing  to  get  off 
on  her  a  riddle  which  he  could  not  read  himself ;  but 
she  owned  that  the  charm  of  Clementina's  mystery 
was  worth  a  thousand  times  the  fatigue  of  trying  to 
guess  her  out  and  that  she  was  more  and  more  infatu 
ated  with  her  every  day. 

In  the  meantime,  Miss  Milray's  little  dance  grew 
upon  her  till  it  became  a  very  large  one  that  filled  her 


176  RAGGED    LADY. 

villa  to  overflowing  when  the  time  came  for  it.  She 
lived  on  one  of  the  fine  avenues  of  the  Oltrarno  re 
gion,  laid  out  in  the  brief  period  of  prosperity  which 
Florence  enjoyed  as  the  capital  of  Italy.  The  villa 
was  built  at  that  time,  and  it  was  much  newer  than 
the  house  on  Seventeenth  street  in  New  York,  where 
she  spent  the  girlhood  that  had  since  prolonged  itself 
beyond  middle  life  with  her.  She  had  first  lived 
abroad  in  the  Paris  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  she 
had  been  one  winter  in  Rome,  but  she  had  settled  def 
initely  in  Florence  before  London  became  an  Ameri 
can  colony,  so  that  her  friends  were  chiefly  Americans, 
though  she  had  a  wide  international  acquaintance. 
Perhaps  her  habit  of  taking  her  brother's  part,  when 
he  was  a  black  sheep,  inclined  her  to  mercy  with  peo 
ple  who  had  not  been  so  blameless  in  their  morals  as 
they  were  in  their  minds  and  manners.  She  exacted 
that  they  should  be  interesting  and  agreeable,  and 
not  too  threadbare  ;  but  if  they  had  something  that 
decently  buttoned  over  the  frayed  places,  she  did  not 
frown  upon  their  poverty.  Bohemians  of  all  kinds 
liked  her';  Philistines  liked  her  too;  and  in  such  a 
place  as  Florence,  where  the  Philistines  themselves 
are  a  little  Bohemian,  she  might  be  said  to  be  very 
popular.  You  met  persons  whom  you  did  not  quite 
wish  to  meet  at  her  house,  but  if  these  did  not  meet 
you  there,  it  was  your  loss. 

On  the  night  of  the  dance  the  line  of  private  carri 
ages,  remises  and  cabs,  lined  the  Viale  Ariosto  for  a 
mile  up  and  down  before  her  gates,  where  young  art 
ists  of  both  sexes  arrived  on  foot.  By  this  time  her 


KAGGED    LADY.  177 

passion  for  Clementina  was  at  its  height.  She  had 
Maddalena  bring  her  out  early  in  the  evening,  and 
made  her  dress  under  her  own  eye  and  her  French 
maid's,  while  Maddalena  went  back  to  comfort  Mrs. 
Lander. 

"  I  hated  to  leave  her,"  said  Clementina.  "  I  don't 
believe  she's  very  well." 

"Isn't  she  always  ill?"  demanded  Miss  Milray. 
She  embraced  the  girl  again,  as  if  once  were  not 
enough.  "  Clementina,  if  Mrs.  Lander  won't  give  you 
to  me,  I'm  going  to  steal  you.  Do  you  know  what  I 
want  you  to  do  to-night  ?  I  want  you  to  stand  up 
with  me,  and  receive,  till  the  dancing  begins,  as  if  it 
were  your  coming-out.  I  mean  to  introduce  every 
body  to  you.  You'll  be  easily  the  prettiest  girl, 
there,  and  you'll  have  the  nicest  gown,  and  I  don't 
mean  that  any  of  your  charms  shall  be  thrown  away. 
You  won't  be  frightened  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  I  shall,"  said  Clementina. 
"  You  can  tell  me  what  to  do." 

The  dress  she  wore  was  of  pale  green,  like  the  light 
seen  in  thin  woods;  out  of  it  shone  her  white  shoul 
ders,  and  her  young  face,  as  if  rising  through  the 
verdurous  light.  The  artists,  to  a  man  and  woman, 
wished  to  paint  her,  and  severally  told  her  so,  during 
the  evening  which  lasted  till  morning.  She  was  not 
surprised  when  Lord  Lioncourt  appeared,  toward 
midnight,  and  astonished  Miss  Milray  by  claiming 
acquaintance  with  Clementina.  He  asked  about  Mrs. 
Lander,  and  whether  she  had  got  to  Florence  without 
losing  the  way ;  he  laughed  but  he  seemed  really  to 
L 


178  RAGGED    LADY. 

care.  lie  took  Clementina  out  to  supper,  when  the 
time  came;  and  she  would  have  topped  him  by  half  a 
head  as  she  leaned  on  his  arm,  if  she  had  not  consid 
erately  drooped  and  trailed  a  little  after  him. 

She  could  not  know  what  a  triumph  he  was  making 
for  her ;  and  it  was  merely  part  of  the  magic  of  the 
time  that  Mr.  Ewins  should  come  in  presently  with 
one  of  the  ladies,  lie  had  arrived  in  Florence  that 
day,  and  had  to  be  brought  unasked.  He  put  on  the 
effect  of  an  old  friend  with  her ;  but  Clementina's 
curiosity  was  chiefly  taken  with  a  tall  American,  whom 
she  thought  very  handsome.  His  light  yellow  hair 
was  brushed  smooth  across  his  forehead  like  a  \vell- 
behaving  boy's ;  he  was  dressed  like  the  other  men, 
but  he  seemed  not  quite  happy  in  his  evening  coat, 
and  his  gloves  which  he  smote  together  uneasily  from 

O  O  J 

time  to  time.  He  appeared  to  think  that  somehow 
the  radiant  Clementina  would  know  how  he  felt;  he 
did  not  dance,  and  he  professed  to  have  found  him 
self  at  the  party  by  a  species  of  accident.  He  told 
her  that  he  was  out  in  Europe  looking  after  a  patent 
right  that  he  had  just  taken  hold  of,  and  was  having 
only  a  middling  good  time.  He  pretended  surprise 
to  hear  her  say  that  she  was  having  a  first-rate  time, 
and  he  tried  to  reason  her  out  of  it.  He  confessed 
that  from  the  moment  he  came  into  the  room  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  her  to  supper,  and 
had  never  been  so  disgusted  in  his  life  as  when  he 

O 

saw  that  little  lord  toddling  off  with  her,  and  trying 
to  look  as  large  as  life.  He  asked  her  what  a  lord 
was  like,  anyway,  and  he  made  her  laugh  all  the  time. 


RAGGED    LADY.  179 

He  told  her  his  name,  G.  W.  Hinkle,  and  asked 
whether  she  would  be  likely  to  remember  it  if  they 
ever  met  again. 

Another  man  who  interested  her  very  much  was  a 
young  Russian,  with  curling  hair  and  neat,  small  feat 
ures  who  spoke  better  English  than  she  did,  and  said 
he  was  going  to  be  a  writer,  but  had  not  yet  decided 
whether  to  write  in  Russian  or  French ;  she  sup 
posed  he  had  wanted  her  advice,  but  he  did  not  wait 
for  it,  or  seem  to  expect  it.  He  was  very  much 
in  earnest,  while  he  fanned  her,  and  his  earnestness 
amused  her  as  much  as  the  American's  irony.  He 
asked  which  city  of  America  she  came  from,  and 
when  she  said  none,  he  asked  which  part  of  America. 
She  answered  New  England,  and  he  said,  "  Oh,  yes, 
that  is  where  they  have  the  conscience."  She  did  not 
know  what  he  meant,  and  he  put  before  her  the  ideal 
of  New  England  girlhood  which  he  had  evolved  from 
reading  American  novels.  "  Are  you  like  that  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

She  laughed,  and  said,  "  Not  a  bit,"  and  asked  him 
if  he  had  ever  met  such  an  American  girl,  and  he  said, 
frankly,  No ;  the  American  girls  were  all  mercenary, 
and  cared  for  nothing  but  money,  or  marrying  titles. 
He  added  that  he  had  a  title,  but  he  would  not  wear  it. 

Clementina  said  she  did  not  believe  she  cared  for 
titles,  and  then  he  said,  "  But  you  care  for  money." 
She  denied  it,  but  as  if  she  had  confessed  it,  he  went 
on :  "  The  only  American  that  I  have  seen  with  that 
conscience  was  a  man.  I  will  tell  you  of  him,  if  you 
wish." 


180  RAGGED    LADY. 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  answer.  "  It  was  in  Naples 
— at  Pompeii.  I  saw  at  the  first  glance  that  he  was 
different  from  other  Americans,  and  I  resolved  to 
know  him.  He  was  there  in  company  with  a  stupid 
boy,  whose  tutor  he  was ;  and  he  told  me  that  he  was 
studying  to  be  a  minister  of  the  Protestant  church. 
Next  year  he  will  go  home  to  be  consecrated.  He 
promised  to  pass  through  Florence  in  the  spring,  and 
he  will  keep  his  word.  Every  act,  every  word,  every 
thought  of  his  is  regulated  by  conscience.  It  is  ter 
rible,  but  it  is  beautiful."  All  the  time,  the  Russian 
was  fanning  Clementina,  with  every  outward  appear 
ance  of  flirtation.  "  Will  you  dance  again  ?  No  ?  I 
should  like  to  draw  such  a  character  as  his  in  a  ro- 


XXII. 

IT  was  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  before  Miss  Mil- 
ray  sent  Clementina  home  in  her  carriage.  She  would 
have  kept  her  to  breakfast,  but  Clementina  said  she 
ought  to  go  on  Mrs.  Lander's  account,  and  she  wished 
to  go  on  her  own. 

She  thought  she  would  steal  to  bed  without  waking 
her,  but  she  was  stopped  by  the  sound  of  groans 
when  she  entered  their  apartment ;  the  light  gushed 
from  Mrs.  Lander's  door.  Maddalena  came  out,  and 
blessed  the  name  of  her  Latin  deity  (so  much  more 
familiar  and  approachable  than  the  Anglo-Saxon  di 
vinity)  that  Clementina  had  come  at  last,  and  poured 
upon  her  the  story  of  a  night  of  suffering  for  Mrs. 
Lander.  Through  her  story  came  the  sound  of  Mrs. 
Lander's  voice  plaintively  reproachful,  summoning 
Clementina  to  her  bedside.  "  Oh,  how  could  you  go 
away  and  leave  me  ?  I've  been  in  such  misery  the 
whole  night  long,  and  the  docta  didn't  do  a  thing  for 
me.  I'm  puffectly  wolin  out,  and  I  couldn't  make 
my  wants  known  with  that  Italian  crazy-head.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  the  portyary  comin'  in  and  interpret- 
in',  when  the  docta  left,  I  don't  know  what  I  should 


182  RAGGED    LADY. 

have  done.  I  want  you  should  give  him  a  twenty- 
leary  note  just  as  quick  as  you  see  him ;  and  oh,  isn't 
the  docta  comin'  ?  " 

Clementina  set  about  helping  Maddalena  put  the 
room,  which  was  in  an  impassioned  disorder,  to 
rights ;  and  she  made  Mrs.  Lander  a  cup  of  her  own 
tea,  which  she  had  brought  from  S.  S.  Pierce's  in 
passing  through  Boston ;  it  was  the  first  thing,  the 
sufferer  said,  that  had  saved  her  life.  Clementina 
comforted  her,  and  promised  her  that  the  doctor 
should  be  there  very  soon ;  and  before  Mrs.  Lander 
fell  away  to  sleep,  she  was  so  far  out  of  danger  as  to 
be  able  to  ask  how  Clementina  had  enjoyed  herself, 
and  to  be  glad  that  she  had  such  a  good  time. 

The  doctor  would  not  wake  her  when  he  came;  he 
said  that  she  had  been  through  a  pretty  sharp  gastric 
attack,  which  would  not  recur,  if  she  ate  less  of  the 
most  unwholesome  things  she  could  get,  and  went 
more  into  the  air,  and  walked  a  little.  He  did  not 
seem  alarmed,  and  he  made  Clementina  tell  him  about 
the  dance,  which  he  had  been  called  from  to  Mrs. 
Lander's  bed  of  pain.  He  joked  her  for  not  having 
missed  him ;  in  the  midst  of  their  fun,  she  caught  her 
self  in  the  act  of  yawning,  and  the  doctor  laughed, 
and  went  away. 

Maddalena  had  to  call  her,  just  before  dinner,  when 
Mrs.  Lander  had  been  awake  long  enough  to  have  sent 
for  the  doctor  to  explain  the  sort  of  gone  feeling 
which  she  was  now  the  victim  of.  It  proved,  when 
he  came,  to  be  hunger,  and  he  prescribed  tea  and 
toast  and  a  small  bit  of  steak.  Before  he  came  she 


RAGGED    LADY.  183 

had  wished  to  arrange  for  going  home  at  once,  and 
dying  in  her  own  country.  But  his  opinion  so  far 
prevailed  with  her  that  she  consented  not  to  telegraph 
for  berths.  "  I  presume,"  she  said,  "  it'll  do,  any 
time  before  the  icebugs  begin  to  run.  But  I  d'  know, 
afta  this,  Clementina,  as  I  can  let  you  leave  me  quite 
as  you  be'n  doin'.  There  was  a  lot  of  flowas  come  for 
you,  this  aftanoon,  but  I  made  Maddaleua  put  'em  on 
the  balcony,  for  I  don't  want  you  should  get  poisoned 
with  'em  in  your  sleep;  I  always  hea'd  they  was  dan 
gerous  in  a  person's  bed  room.  I  d'  know  as  they 
are,  eitha." 

Maddalena  seemed  to  know  that  Mrs.  Lander  was 
speaking  of  the  flowers.  She  got  them  and  gave  them 
to  Clementina,  who  found  they  were  from  some  of 
the  men  she  had  danced  with.  Mr.  Hinkle  had  sent 
a  vast  bunch  of  violets,  which  presently  began  to  give 
out  their  sweetness  in  the  warmth  of  the  room,  and 
the  odor  brought  him  before  her  with  his  yellow  hair, 
scrupulously  parted  at  the  side,  and  smoothly  brush 
ed,  showing  his  forehead  very  high  up.  Most  of  the 
gentlemen  wore  their  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  or 
falling  in  a  fringe  over  their  brows ;  the  Russian's  was 
too  curly  to  part,  and  Lord  Lioncourt  had  none  ex 
cept  at  the  sides. 

She  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Lander  said,  "  Tell  about  it, 
Clementina,"  and  she  began  with  Mr.  Hinkle,  and 
kept  coming  back  to  him  from  the  others.  Mrs.  Lan 
der  wished  most  to  know  how  that  lord  had  got  down 
to  Florence;  and  Clementina  told  her  that  he  had 
said  he  was  coming  to  see  her. 


184  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  "Well,  I  hope  to  goodness  he  won't  come  to-day, 
/  a'n't  fit  to  see  anybody." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  he  won't  come  till  to-morrow,"  said 
Clementina;  she  repeated  some  of  the  compliments 
she  had  got,  and  she  told  of  all  Miss  Milray's  kind 
ness  to  her,  but  Mrs.  Lander  said,  "  Well,  the  next 
time,  I'll  thank  her  not  to  keep  you  so  late."  She 
was  astonished  to  hear  that  Mr.  Ewins  was  there,  and 
"  Any  of  the  nasty  things  out  of  the  hotel  the'e  ? " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  Clementina  said,  "  the'e  we'e,  and  some  of 
them  we'e  very  nice.  They  wanted  to  know  if  I 
wouldn't  join  them,  and  have  an  aftanoon  of  our  own 
here  in  the  hotel,  so  that  people  could  come  to  us  all 
at  once." 

She  went  back  to  the  party,  and  described  the  rest 
of  it.  When  she  came  to  the  part  about  the  Russian, 
she  told  what  he  had  said  of  American  girls  being 
fond  of  money,  and  wanting  to  marry  foreign  noble 
men. 

Mrs.  Lander  said,  "  Well,  I  hope  you  a'n't  a  going 
to  get  married  in  a  hurry,  anyway,  and  when  you  do 
I  hope  you'll  pick  out  a  nice  American." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Clementina. 

Mrs.  Lander  had  their  dinner  brought  to  their 
apartment.  She  cheered  up,  and  she  was  in  some 
danger  of  eating  too  much,  but  with  Clementina's 
help  she  denied  herself.  Their  short  evening  was  one 
of  the  gayest ;  Clementina  declared  she  was  not  the 
least  sleepy,  but  she  went  to  bed  at  nine,  and  slept 
till  nine  the  next  day. 


RAGGED    LADY.  185 

Mrs.  Lander,  the  doctor  confessed,  the  second 
morning,  was  more  shaken  up  by  her  little  attack 
than  he  had  expected ;  but  she  decided  to  see  the  gen 
tleman  who  had  asked  to  call  on  Clementina.  Lord 
Lioncourt  did  not  come  quite  so  soon  as  she  was 
afraid  he  might,  and  when  he  came  he  talked  mostly 
to  Clementina.  He  did  not  get  to  Mrs.  Lander  until 
just  before  he  was  going.  She  hospitably  asked  him 
what  his  hurry  was,  and  then  he  said  that  he  was  off 
for  Rome,  that  evening  at  seven.  He  was  nice  about 
hoping  she  was  comfortable  in  the  hotel,  and  he  sym 
pathized  with  her  in  her  wish  that  there  was  a  set- 
bowl  in  her  room ;  she  told  him  that  she  always  tried 
to  have  one,  and  he  agreed  that  it  must  be  very  con 
venient  where  any  one  was,  as  she  said,  sick  so  much. 

Mr.  Hinkle  came  a  day  later ;  and  then  it  appeared 
that  he  had  a  mother  whose  complaints  almost  exactly 
matched  Mrs.  Lander's.  He  had  her  photograph  with 
him,  and  showed  it ;  he  said  if  you  had  no  wife  to 
carry  round  a  photograph  of,  you  had  better  carry 
your  mother's ;  and  Mrs.  Lander  praised  him  for  being 
a  good  son.  A  good  son,  she  added,  always  made  a 
good  husband ;  and  he  said  that  was  just  what  he  told 
the  young  ladies  himself,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  make 
much  impression  on  them.  He  kept  Clementina 
laughing;  and  he  pretended  that  he  was  going  to 
bring  a  diagram  of  his  patent  right  for  her  to  see, 
because  she  would  be  interested  in  a  gleaner  like 
that ;  and  he  said  he  wished  her  father  could  see  it, 
for  it  would  be  sure  to  interest  the  kind  of  man  Mrs. 
Lander  described  him  to  be.  "  I'll  be  along  up  there 


186  RAGGED    LADY. 

just  about  the  time  you  get  home,  Miss  Clementina. 
When  did  you  say  it  would  be  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  pretty  ea'ly  in  the  spring,  I 
guess." 

She  looked  at  Mrs.  Lander,  who  said,  "  Well,  it 
depends  upon  how  I  git  up  my  health.  I  couldn't 
bea'  the  voyage  now." 

Mr.  Hinkle  said,  "  No,  best  look  out  for  your 
health,  if  it  takes  all  summer.  I  shouldn't  want  you 
to  hurry  on  my  account.  Your  time  is  my  time.  All 
I  want  is  for  Miss  Clementina,  here,  to  personally 
conduct  me  to  her  father.  If  I  could  get  him  to 
take  hold  of  my  gleaner  in  New  England,  we  could 
make  the  blueberry  crop  worth  twice  what  it  is." 

Mrs.  Lander  perceived  that  he  was  joking ;  and 
she  asked  what  he  wanted  to  run  away  for  when  the 
young  Russian's  card  came  up.  He  said,  "  Oh,  give 
every  man  a  chance,"  and  he  promised  that  he  would 
look  in  every  few  days,  and  see  how  she  was  getting 
along.  He  opened  the  door  after  he  had  gone  out, 
and  put  his  head  in  to  say  in  confidence  to  Mrs.  Lan 
der,  but  so  loud  that  Clementina  could  hear,  "  I  sup 
pose  she's  told  you  who  the  belle  of  the  ball  was,  the 
other  night  ?  Went  out  to  supper  with  a  lord  !  " 
He  seemed  to  think  a  lord  was  such  a  good  joke  that 
if  you  mentioned  one  you  had  to  laugh. 

The  Russian's  card  bore  the  name  Baron  Belsky, 
with  the  baron  crossed  out  in  pencil,  and  he  began  to 
attack  in  Mrs.  Lander  the  demerits  of  the  American 
character,  as  he  had  divined  them.  He  instructed 
her  that  her  countrymen  existed  chiefly  to  make 


RAGGED    LADY.  187 

money ;  that  they  were  more  shopkeepers  than  the 
English  and  worse  snobs  ;  that  their  women  were  triv 
ial  and  their  men  sordid  ;  that  their  ambition  was  to 
unite  their  families  with  the  European  aristocracies ; 
and  their  doctrine  of  liberty  and  equality  was  a  shame 
less  hypocrisy.  This  followed  hard  upon  her  asking, 
as  she  did  very  promptly,  why  he  had  scratched  out 
the  title  on  his  card.  He  told  her  that  he  wished 
to  be  known  solely  as  an  artist,  and  he  had  to  explain 
to  her  that  he  was  not  a  painter,  but  was  going  to  be 
a  novelist.  She  taxed  him  with  never  having  been 
in  America,  but  he  contended  that  as  all  America  came 
to  Europe  he  had  the  materials  for  a  study  of  the 
national  character  at  hand,  without  the  trouble  of 
crossing  the  ocean.  In  return  she  told  him  that  she 
had  not  been  the  least  sea-sick  during  the  voyage,  and 
that  it  was  no  trouble  at  all ;  then  he  abruptly  left  her 
and  went  over  to  beg  a  cup  of  tea  from  Clementina, 
who  sat  behind  the  kettle  by  the  window. 

"  I  have  heard  this  morning  from  that  American  I 
met  in  Pompeii "  he  began.  "  He  is  coming  north 
ward,  and  I  am  going  down  to  meet  him  in  Rome." 

Mrs.  Lander  caught  the  word,  and  called  across  the 
room,  "  Why,  a'n't  that  whe'e  that  lo'd's  gone  ?  " 

Clementina  said  yes,  and  while  the  kettle  boiled, 
she  asked  if  Baron  Belsky  were  going  soon. 

"Oh,  in  a  week  or  ten  days,  perhaps.  I  shall  know 
when  he  arrives.  Then  I  shall  go.  We  write  to 
each  other  every  day."  He  drew  a  letter  from  his 
breast  pocket.  "  This  will  give  you  the  idea  of  his 
character,"  and  he  read,  "  If  we  believe  that  the  hand 


188  RAGGED    LADY. 

of  God  directs  all  our  actions,  how  can  we  set  up  our 
theories  of  conduct  against  what  we  feel  to  be  his 
inspiration  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I  don't  believe  that  God  directs  our  wrong 
actions,"  said  Clementina. 

"  How  !     Is  there  anything  outside  of  God  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  there  is  or  not.  But  there 
is  something  that  tempts  me  to  do  wrong,  sometimes, 
and  I  don't  believe  that  is  God.'7 

The  Russian  seemed  struck.  "  I  will  write  that  to 
him  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Clementina,  "  I  don't  want  you  to  say 
anything  about  me  to  him." 

"  No,  no ! "  said  Baron  Belsky,  waving  his  hand 
reassuringly.  "  I  would  not  mention  your  name  !  " 

Mr.  Ewins  came  in,  and  the  Russian  said  he  must 
go.  Mrs.  Lander  tried  to  detain  him,  too,  as  she  had 
tried  to  keep  Mr.  Hinkle,  but  he  was  inexorable.  Mr. 
Ewins  looked  at  the  door  when  it  had  closed  upon 
him.  Mrs.  Lander  said,  "  That  is  one  of  the  gentle 
men  that  Clementina  met  the  otha  night  at  the  dance. 
He  is  a  baron,  but  he  scratches  it  out.  You'd  ought 
to  hea'd  him  go  on  about  Americans." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Ewins  coldly.  "  He's  at  our  hotel, 
and  he  airs  his  peculiar  opinions  at  the  table  d'hote 
pretty  freely.  He's  a  revolutionist  of  some  kind,  I 
fancy."  He  pronounced  the  epithet  with  an  abhor 
rence  befitting  the  citizen  of  a  state  born  of  revolution 
and  a  city  that  had  cradled  the  revolt.  "  lie's  a  Ni 
hilist,  I  believe." 


RAGGED    LADY.  189 

Mrs.  Lander  wished  to  know  what  that  was,  and  he 
explained  that  it  was  a  Russian  who  wanted  to  over 
throw  the  Czar,  and  set  np  a  government  of  the  people, 
when  they  were  not  prepared  for  liberty. 

"  Then,  maybe  he  isn't  a  baron  at  all,"  said  Mrs. 
Lander. 

"  Oh,  I  believe  he  has  a  right  to  his  title,"  Ewins 
answered.  "  It's  a  German  one." 

He  said  he  thought  that  sort  of  man  was  all  the 
more  mischievous  on  account  of  his  sincerity.  He 
instanced  a  Russian  whom  a  friend  of  his  knew  in 
Berlin,  a  man  of  rank  like  this  fellow :  he  got  to 
brooding  upon  the  condition  of  working  people  and 
that  kind  of  thing,  till  he  renounced  his  title  and  for 
tune  and  went  to  work  in  an  iron  foundry. 

Mr.  Ewins  also  spoke  critically  of  Mrs.  Milray.  He 
had  met  her  in  Egypt ;  but  you  soon  exhausted  the 
interest  of  that  kind  of  woman.  He  professed  a  great 
concern  that  Clementina  should  see  Florence  in  just 
the  right  way,  and  he  offered  his  services  in  showing 
her  the  place. 

The  Russian  came  the  next  day,  and  almost  daily 
after  that,  in  the  interest  with  which  Clementina's 
novel  difference  from  other  American  girls  seemed  to 
inspire  him.  His  imagination  had  transmuted  her 
simple  Yankee  facts  into  something  appreciable  to  a 
Slav  of  his  temperament.  He  conceived  of  her  as  the 
daughter  of  a  peasant,  whose  beauty  had  charmed  the 
widow  of  a  rich  citizen,  and  who  was  to  inherit  the 
wealth  of  her  adoptive  mother.  He  imagined  that 
the  adoption  had  taken  place  at  a  much  earlier  period 


190  BAGGED    LADY. 

than  the  time  when  Clementina's  visit  to  Mrs.  Lander 
actually  began,  and  that  all  which  could  be  done  had 
been  done  to  efface  her  real  character  by  indulgence 
and  luxury. 

His  curiosity  concerning  her  childhood,  her  home, 
her  father  and  mother,  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
his  misunderstanding  of  everything  she  told  him, 
amused  her.  But  she  liked  him,  and  she  tried  to 
give  him  some  notion  of  the  things  he  wished  so  much 
to  know.  It  always  ended  in  a  dissatisfaction,  more 
or  less  vehement,  with  the  outcome  of  American  con 
ditions  as  he  conceived  them. 

"  But  you,"  he  urged  one  day,  "  you  who  are  a 
daughter  of  the  fields  and  woods,  why  should  you  for 
sake  that  pure  life,  and  come  to  waste  yourself  here  ? " 

"  Why,  don't  you  think  it's  very  nice  in  Florence  ?  " 
she  asked,  with  eyes  of  innocent  interest. 

"  Nice  !  Nice  !  Do  we  live  for  what  is  nice  ?  Is 
it  enough  that  you  have  what  you  Americans^ lall  a 
nice  time  ?"  4, 

Clementina  reflected.  "  I  wasn't  doing  much  of 
anything  at  home,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  come 
with  Mrs.  Lander,  if  she  wanted  me  so  much."  She 
thought  in  a  certain  way,  that  he  was  meddling  with 
what  was  not  his  affair,  but  she  believed  that  he  was 
sincere  in  his  zeal  for  the  ideal  life  he  wished  her  to 
lead,  and  there  were  some  things  she  had  heard  about 
him  that  made  her  pity  and  respect  him  ;  his  self-exile 
and  his  renunciation  of  home  and  country  for  his  prin 
ciples,  whatever  they  were;  she  did  not  understand 
exactly.  She  would  not  have  liked  never  being  able 


RAGGED    LADY.  191 

to  go  back  to  Middlcmount,  or  to  be  cut  off  from  all 
her  friends  as  this  poor  young  Nihilist  was,  and  she 
said,  now,  "  I  didn't  expect  that  it  was  going  to  be 
anything  but  a  visit,  and  I  always  supposed  we  should 
go  back  in  the  spring ;  but  now  Mrs.  Lander  is  be 
ginning  to  think  she  won't  be  well  enough  till  fall." 

"And  why  need  you  stay  with  her?" 

"  Because  she's  not  very  well,"  answered  Clemen 
tina,  and  she  smiled,  a  little  triumphantly  as  well  as 
tolerantly. 

"  She  could  hire  nurses  and  doctors,  all  she  wants 
with  her  money." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  be  the  same  thing,  exactly, 
and  what  should  I  do  if  I  went  back  ? " 

"Do?     Teach!     Uplift  the  lives  about  you." 

"  But  you  say  it  is  better  for  people  to  live  simply, 
and  not  read  and  think  so  much." 

"  Then  labor  in  the  fields  with  them." 

C1  mentina  laughed  outright.  "  I  guess  if  anyone 
saw  r->e  wo'king  in  the  fields  they  would  think  I  was 
a  disgrace  to  the  neighbahood." 

Belsky  gave  her  a  stupified  glare  through  his  spec 
tacles.  "  I  cannot  undertand  you  Americans." 

"  Well,  you  must  come  ova  to  America,  then,  Mr. 
Belsky  " — he  had  asked  her  not  to  call  him  by  his 
title — "  and  then  you  would." 

"  No,  I  could  not  endure  the  disappointment.  You 
have  the  great  opportunity  of  the  earth.  You  could 
be  equal  and  just,  and  simple  and  kind.  There  is 
nothing  to  hinder  you.  But  all  you  try  to  do  is  to 
get  more  and  more  money." 


192  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Now,  that  isn't  faia,  Mr.  Belsky,  and  you  know 
it." 

"  Well,  then,  you  joke,  joke — always  joke.  Like 
that  Mr.  Hinkle.  He  wants  to  make  money  with  his 
patent  of  a  gleaner,  that  will  take  the  last  grain  of 
wheat  from  the  poor,  and  he  wants  to  joke — joke  ! ' 

Clementina  said,  "  I  won't  let  you  say  that  about 
Mr.  Hinkle.  You  don't  know  him,  or  you  wouldn't. 
If  he  jokes,  why  shouldn't  he  ?  " 

Belsky  made  a  gesture  of  rejection.  "  Oh,  you  are 
an  American,  too." 

She  had  not  grown  less  American,  certainly,  since 
she  had  left  home ;  even  the  little  conformities  to 
Europe  that  she  practiced  were  traits  of  Americanism. 
Clementina  was  not  becoming  sophisticated,  but  per 
haps  she  was  becoming  more  conventionalized.  The 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil  in  things  that  had  all 
seemed  indifferently  good  to  her  once,  had  crept  upon 
her,  and  she  distinguished  in  her  actions.  She  sinned 
as  little  as  any  young  lady  in  Florence  against  the 
superstitions  of  society;  but  though  she  would  not 
now  have  done  a  skirt-dance  before  a  shipful  of  peo 
ple,  she  did  not  afflict  herself  about  her  past  errors. 
She  put  on  the  world,  but  she  wore  it  simply  and  in 
most  matters  unconsciously.  Some  things  were  im 
parted  to  her  without  her  asking  or  wishing,  and 
merely  in  virtue  of  her  youth  and  impressionability. 
She  took  them  from  her  environment  without  know 
ing  it,  and  in  this  way  she  was  coming  by  an  English 
manner  and  an  English  tone ;  she  was  only  the  less 
American  for  being  rather  English  without  trying, 


RAGGED    LADY.  193 

when  other  Americans  tried  so  hard.  In  the  region 
of  harsh  nasals,  Clementina  had  never  spoken  through 
her  nose,  and  she  was  now  as  unaffected  in  these  alien 
inflections  as  in  the  tender  cooings  which  used  to 
rouse  the  misgivings  of  her  brother  Jim.  When  she 
was  with  English  people  she  employed  them  involun 
tarily,  and  when  she  was  with  Americans  she  measur 
ably  lost  them,  so  that  after  half  an  hour  with  Mr. 
Hinkle,  she  had  scarcely  a  trace  of  them,  and  with 
Mrs.  Lander  she  always  spoke  with  her  native  accent. 


XXIII. 

ONE  Sunday  night,  toward  the  end  of  Lent,  Mrs. 
Lander  had  another  of  her  attacks ;  she  now  began  to 
call  them  so  as  if  she  had  established  an  ownership 
in  them.  It  came  on  from  her  cumulative  over-eating, 
again,  but  the  doctor  was  not  so  smiling  as  he  had 
been  with  regard  to  the  first.  Clementina  had  got 
ready  to  drive  out  to  Miss  Milray's  for  one  of  her 
Sunday  teas,  but  she  put  off  her  things,  and  prepared 
to  spend  the  night  at  Mrs.  Lander's  bedside.  "Well, 
I  should  think  you  would  want  to,"  said  the  sufferer. 
"  I'm  goin'  to  do  everything  for  you,  and  you'd  ought 
to  be  willing  to  give  up  one  of  youa  junketin's  for 
me.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  see  in  'em, 
an  v  way." 

"  Oh,  I  am  willing,  Mrs.  Lander;  I'm  glad  I  hadn't 
stahted  before  it  began."  Clementina  busied  herself 
with  the  pillows  under  Mrs.  Lander's  dishevelled  head, 
and  the  bedclothes  disordered  by  her  throes,  while 
Mrs.  Lander  went  on. 

"  I  don't  see  what's  the  use  of  so  much  gaddin', 
anyway.  I  don't  see  as  anything  comes  of  it,  but 


RAGGED    LADY.  195 

just  to  get  a  passal  of  worthless  fellas  afta  you  that 
think  you'a  going  to  have  money.  There's  such  a 
thing  as  two  sides  to  everything,  and  if  the  favas  is 
c;oin'  to  be  all  on  one  side  I  guess  there'd  betta  be  a 
clear  undastandin'  about  it.  I  think  I  got  a  right  to 
a  little  attention,  as  well  as  them  that  ha'n't  done 
anything ;  and  if  I'm  goin'  to  be  left  alone  he'e  to 
die  among  strangers  every  time  one  of  my  attacks 
comes  on  " — 

The  doctor  interposed,  "  I  don't  think  you're  going 
to  have  a  very  bad  attack,  this  time,  Mrs.  Lander." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  docta  !  But  you  can 
undastand,  can't  you,  how  I  shall  want  to  have  some 
body  around  that  can  undastand  a  little  English  ? " 

The  doctor  said,  "  Oh  yes.  And  Miss  Claxon  and 
I  can  understand  a  good  deal,  between  us,  and  we're 
going  to  stay,  and  see  how  a  little  morphine  behaves 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Lander  protested,  "  Oh,  I  can't  bea'  mo'phine, 
docta." 

"Did  you  ever  try  it?"  he  asked,  preparing  his 
little  instrument  to  imbibe  the  solution. 

"  No ;  but  Mr.  Landa  did,  and  it  'most  killed  him ; 
it  made  him  sick." 

"  Well,  you're  about  as  sick  as  you  can  be,  now, 
Mrs.  Lander,  and  if  you  don't  die  of  this  pin-prick  " 
— he  pushed  the  needle-point  under  the  skin  of  her 
massive  fore-arm — "  I  guess  you'll  live  through  it." 

She  shrieked,  but  as  the  pain  began  to  abate,  she 
gathered  courage,  and  broke  forth  joyfully.  "  Why, 
it's  beautiful,  a'n't  it  ?  T  declare  it  wo'ks  like  a  cha'm. 


196  KAGGED  LADY. 

Well,  I  shall  always  keep  mo'phine  around  after  this, 
and  when  I  feel  one  of  these  attacks  comin'  on  " — 

"Send  for  a  physician,  Mrs.  Lander,"  said  Dr. 
Welwright,  "  and  he'll  know  what  to  do." 

"I  a'n't  so  sure  of  that,"  returned  Mrs.  Lander 
fondly.  "  He  would  if  you  was  the  one.  I  declare  I 
believe  I  could  get  up  and  walk  right  off,  I  feel  so 
well." 

"  That's  good.  If  you'll  take  a  walk  day  after  to 
morrow  it  will  help  you  a  great  deal  more." 

"Well,  I  shall  always  say  that  you've  saved  my 
life,  this  time,  doctor ;  and  Clementina  she's  stood  by, 
nobly ;  I'll  say  that  for  her."  She  twisted  her  big 
head  round  on  the  pillow  to  get  sight  of  the  girl. 
"  I'm  all  right,  now ;  and  don't  you  mind  what  I  said. 
It's  just  my  misery  talkin' ;  I  don't  know  what  I  did 
say  ;  I  felt  so  bad.  But  I'm  fustrate,  now,  and  I  be 
lieve  I  could  drop  off  to  sleep,  this  minute.  Why 
don't  you  go  to  your  tea?  You  can,  just  as  well  as 
not ! " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  go,  now,  Mrs.  Lander ;  I'd 
ratha  stay." 

"  But  there  a'n't  any  more  danger  now,  is  the'e, 
docta  ? "  Mrs.  Lander  appealed. 

"  No.  There  wasn't  any  danger  before.  But  when 
you're  quite  yourself,  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you,  Mrs.  Lander,  about  your  diet.  We  must  look 
after  that." 

"  Why,  docta,  that's  what  I  do  do,  now.  I  eat  all 
the  healthy  things  I  lay  my  hands  on,  don't  I,  Clem 
entina  ?  And  ha'n't  you  always  at  me  about  it  ? " 


RAGGED    LADY.  197 

Clementina  did  not  answer,  and  the  doctor  laughed. 
"  Well,  I  should  like  to  know  what  more  I  could  do  !  " 

"  Perhaps  you  could  do  less.  AVe'll  see  about  that. 
Better  go  to  sleep,  now,  if  you  feel  like  it." 

"  Well,  I  will,  if  you'll  make  this  silly  child  go  to 
her  tea.  I  s'pose  she  won't  because  I  scolded  her. 
She's  an  awful  hand  to  lay  anything  up  against  you. 
You  know  you  ah',  Clementina !  But  I  can  say  this, 
doctor:  a  betta  child  don't  breathe,  and  I  just  couldn't 
live  without  her.  Come  he'e,  Clementina,  I  want  to 
kiss  you  once,  before  I  go  to  sleep,  so's  to  make  su'a 
you  don't  bea'  malice."  She  pulled  Clementina  down 
to  kiss  her,  and  babbled  on  affectionately  and  opti 
mistically,  till  her  talk  became  the  voice  of  her 
dreams,  and  then  ceased  altogether. 

"  You  could  go,  perfectly  well,  Miss  Claxon,"  said 
the  doctor. 

"No,  I  don't  ca'e  to  go,"  answered  Clementina. 
"  I'd  ratha  stay.  If  she  should  wake  "— 

"She  won't  wake,  until  long  after  you've  got  back; 
I'll  answer  for  that.  I'm  going  to  stay  here  awhile. 
Go  !  I'll  take  the  responsibility." 

Clementina's  face  brightened.  She  wanted  very 
much  to  go.  She  should  meet  some  pleasant  people ; 
she  always  did,  at  Miss  Milray's.  Then  the  light  died 
out  of  her  gay  eyes,  and  she  set  her  lips.  "  No,  I  told 
her  I  shouldn't  go." 

"I  didn't  hear  you,"  said  Dr.  Welwright.  "A 
doctor  has  no  eyes  and  ears  except  for  the  symptoms 
of  his  patients." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  said  Clementina.     She  had  liked 


198  RAGGED    LADY. 

Dr.  Welwright  from  the  first,  and  she  thought  it  was 
very  nice  of  him  to  stay  on,  after  he  left  Mrs.  Lander's 
bedside,  and  help  to  make  her  lonesome  evening  pass 
pleasantly  in  the  parlor.  He  jumped  up  finally,  and 
looked  at  his  watch.  "  Bless  my  soul !  "  he  said,  and 
he  went  in  for  another  look  at  Mrs.  Lander.  When 
he  came  back,  he  said,  "  She's  all  right.  But  you've 
made  me  break  an  engagement,  Miss  Claxon.  I  was 
going  to  tea  at  Miss  Milray's.  She  promised  me  I 
should  meet  you  there." 

It  seemed  a  great  joke ;  and  Clementina  offered  to 
carry  his  excuses  to  Miss  Milray,  when  she  went  to 
make  her  own. 

She  went  the  next  morning.  Mrs.  Lander  insisted 
that  she  should  go ;  she  said  that  she  was  not  going 
to  have  Miss  Milray  thinking  that  she  wanted  to  keep 
her  all  to  herself. 

Miss  Milray  kissed  the  girl  in  full  forgiveness,  but 
she  asked,  "Did  Dr.  Welwright  think  it  a  very  bad 
attack?" 

"Has  he  been  he'a?"  returned  Clementina. 

Miss  Milray  laughed.  "  Doctors  don't  betray  their 
patients — good  doctors.  No,  he  hasn't  been  here,  if 
that  will  help  you.  I  wish  it  would  help  me,  but  it 
won't,  quite.  I  don't  like  to  think  of  that  old  woman 
using  you  up,  Clementina." 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't,  Miss  Milray.  You  mustn't  think 
so.  You  don't  know  how  good  she  is  to  me." 

"  Does  she  ever  remind  you  of  it  ? " 

Clementina's  eyes  fell.  "  She  isn't  like  herself 
when  she  doesn't  feel  well." 


IIAGGED    LADY.  199 

"  I  knew  it !  "  Miss  Milray  triumphed.  "  I  always 
knew  that  she  was  a  dreadful  old  tabby.  I  wish  you 
were  safely  out  of  her  clutches.  Come  and  live  with 
me,  my  dear,  when  Mrs.  Lander  gets  tired  of  you. 
But  she'll  never  get  tired  of  you.  You're  just  the 
kind  of  helpless  mouse  that  such  an  old  tabby  would 
make  her  natural  prey.  But  she  sha'n't,  even  if  an 
other  sort  of  cat  has  to  get  you !  I'm  sorry  you 
couldn't  come  last  night.  Your  little  Russian  was 
here,  and  went  away  early  and  very  bitterly  because 
you  didn't  come.  He  seemed  to  think  there  was  no 
body,  and  said  so,  in  everything  but  words." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Clementina.  "  Don't  you  think  he's 
very  nice,  Miss  Milray  ?  " 

"  He's  very  mystical,  or  else  so  very  simple  that  he 
seems  so.  I  hope  you  can  make  him  out." 

"  Don't  you  think  he's  very  much  in  ea'nest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  the  grave,  or  the  asylum.  I  shouldn't  like 
him  to  be  in  earnest  about  me,  if  I  were  you." 

"  But  that's  just  what  he  is ! "  Clementina  told 
how  the  Russian  had  lectured  her,  and  wished  her  to 
go  back  to  the  country  and  work  in  the  fields. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all  !  "  cried  Miss  Milray.  "  I  was 
afraid  it  was  another  kind  of  earnestness  :  the  kind  I 
shouldn't  like  if  I  were  you." 

"  There's  no  danger  of  that,  I  guess."  Clementina 
laughed,  and  Miss  Milray  went  on  : 

"  Another  of  your  admirers  was  here ;  but  he  was 
not  so  inconsolable,  or  else  he  found  consolation  in 
staying  on  and  talking  about  you,  or  joking." 

"Oh,  yes;  Mr.  Hinkle,"  cried  Clementina  with  the 


200  RAGGED    LADY. 

smile  that  the  thought  of  him  always  brought. 
"  He's  lovely." 

"  Lovely  ?  Well,  I  don't  know  why  it  isn't  the 
word.  It  suits  him  a  great  deal  better  than  some  in 
sipid  girls  that  people  give  it  to.  Yes,  I  could 
really  fall  in  love  with  Mr.  Hinkle.  He's  the  only 
man  I  ever  saw  who  would  know  how  to  break  the 
fall  !  " 

It  was  lunch-time  before  their  talk  had  begun  to 
run  low,  and  it  swelled  again  over  the  meal.  Miss 
Milray  returned  to  Mrs.  Lander,  and  she  made  Clem 
entina  confess  that  she  was  a  little  trying  sometimes. 
But  she  insisted  that  she  was  always  good,  and  in  re 
morse  she  went  away  as  soon  as  Miss  Milray  rose  from 
table. 

She  found  Mrs.  Lander  very  much  better,  and  will 
ing  to  have  had  her  stay  the  whole  afternoon  with 
Miss  Milray.  "  I  don't  want  she  should  have  anything 
to  say  against  me,  to  you,  Clementina ;  she'd  be  glad 
enough  to.  But  I  guess  it's  just  as  well  you'a  back. 
That  scratched-out  baron  has  been  he'e  twice,  and 
he's  waitin'  for  you  in  the  pahla',  now.  I  presume 
he'll  keep  comin'  till  you  do  see  him.  I  guess  you 
betta  have  it  ova ;  whatever  it  is." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,  Mrs.  Lander." 

Clementina  found  the  Russian  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  and  as  soon  as  their  greeting  was 
over,  he  asked  leave  to  continue  his  promenade,  but 
he  stopped  abruptly  before  her  when  she  had  sunk 
upon  a  sofa. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  a  strange  story,"  he  said. 


RAGGED    LADY.  201 

"  It  is  the  story  of  that  American  friend  of  mine.  I 
tell  it  to  you  because  I  think  you  can  understand,  and 
will  know  what  to  advise,  what  to  do." 

He  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  walked  the  length  of 
the  room  and  back  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Since  several  years,"  he  said,  growing  a  little  less 
idiomatic  in  his  English  as  his  excitement  mounted, 
"  he  met  a  young  girl,  a  child,  when  he  was  still  not 
a  man's  full  age.  It  was  in  the  country,  in  the  moun 
tains  of  America,  and — he  loved  her.  Both  were  very 
poor ;  he,  a  student,  earning  the  means  to  complete  his 
education  in  the  university.  He  had  dedicated  him 
self  to  his  church,  and  with  the  temperament  of  the 
Puritans,  he  forbade  himself  all  thoughts  of  love. 
But  he  was  of  a  passionate  and  impulsive  nature,  and 
in  a  moment  of  abandon  he  confessed  his  love.  The 
child  was  bewildered,  frightened ;  she  shrank  from  his 
avowal,  and  he,  filled  with  remorse  for  his  self -betrayal, 
bade  her  let  it  be  as  if  it  had  not  been ;  he  bade  her 
think  of  him  no  more." 

Clementina  sat  as  if  powerless  to  move,  staring  at 
Belsky.  He  paused  in  his  walk,  and  allowed  an  im 
pressive  silence  to  ensue  upon  his  words. 

"Time  passed:  days,  months,  years;  and  he  did 
not  see  her  again.  He  pursued  his  studies  in  the 
university;  at  their  completion,  he  entered  upon  the 
course  of  divinity,  and  he  is  soon  to  be  a  minister  of 
his  church.  In  all  that  time  the  image  of  the  young 
girl  has  remained  in  his  heart,  and  has  held  him  true 
to  the  only  love  he  has  ever  known.  He  will  know 
no  other  while  he  lives." 


202  RAGGED    LADY. 

Again  lie  stopped  in  front  of  Clementina ;  she 
looked  helplessly  up  at  him,  and  he  resumed  his  walk. 

"  He,  with  his  dreams  of  renunciation,  of  abnega 
tion,  had  thought  some  day  to  return  to  her  and  ask 
her  to  be  his.  He  believed  her  capable  of  equal  sac 
rifice  with  himself,  and  he  hoped  to  win  her  not  for 
himself  alone,  but  for  the  religion  which  he  put  before 
himself.  He  would  have  invited  her  to  join  her  fate 
with  his  that  they  might  go  together  on  some  mission 
to  the  pagan — in  the  South  Seas,  in  the  heart  of  Af 
rica,  in  the  jungle  of  India.  He  had  always  thought 
of  her  as  gay  but  good,  unworldly  in  soul,  and  exalted 
in  spirit.  She  has  remained  with  him  a  vision  of  an 
gelic  loveliness,  as  he  had  seen  her  last  in  the  moon 
light,  on  the  banks  of  a  mountain  torrent.  But  he 
believes  that  he  has  disgraced  himself  before  her ;  that 
the  very  scruple  for  her  youth,  her  ignorance,  which 
made  him  entreat  her  to  forget  him,  must  have  made 
her  doubt  and  despise  him.  He  has  never  had  the 
courage  to  write  to  her  one  word  since  all  those  years, 
but  he  maintains  himself  bound  to  her  forever."  He 
stopped  short  before  Clementina  and  seized  her  hands. 
"  If  you  knew  such  a  girl,  what  would  you  have  her 
do  ?  Should  she  bid  him  hope  again  ?  Would  you 
have  her  say  to  him  that  she,  too,  had  been  faithful 
to  their  dream,  and  that  she  too  " — 

"  Let  me  go,  Mr.  Belsky,  let  me  go,  I  say  !  "  Clem 
entina  wrenched  her  hands  from  him,  and  ran  out  of 
the  room.  Belsky  hesitated,  then  he  found  his  hat, 
and  after  a  glance  at  his  face  in  the  mirror,  left  the 
house. 


XXIV. 

THE  tide  of  travel  began  to  set  northward  in  April. 
Many  English,  many  Americans  appeared  in  Florence 
from  Naples  and  Rome ;  many  who  had  wintered  in 
Florence  went  on  to  Venice  and  the  towns  of  northern 
Italy,  on  their  way  to  Switzerland  and  France  and 
Germany. 

The  spring  was  cold  and  rainy,  and  the  irresolute 
Italian  railroads  were  interrupted  by  the  floods.  A 
tawny  deluge  rolled  down  from  the  mountains  through 
the  bed  of  the  Arno,  and  kept  the  Florentine  fire-de 
partment  on  the  alert  night  and  day.  "  It  is  a  curious 
thing  about  this  country,"  said  Mr.  Hinkle,  encounter 
ing  Baron  Belsky  on  the  Ponte  Trinita,  "that  the 
only  thing  they  ever  have  here  for  a  fire  company  to 
put  out  is  a  freshet.  If  they  had  a  real  conflagration 
once,  I  reckon  they  would  want  to  bring  their  life-pre 
servers." 

The  Russian  was  looking  down  over  the  parapet  at 
the  boiling  river.  He  lifted  his  head  as  if  he  had  not 
heard  the  American,  and  stared  at  him  a  moment  be- 


204:  RAGGED    LADY. 

fore  he  spoke.  "  It  is  said  that  the  railway  to  Rome 
is  broken  at  Grossetto." 

"  Well,  Pm  not  going  to  Rome,"  said  Hinkle, 
easily.  "  Are  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  to  meet  a  friend  there ;  but  he  wrote  to  me 
that  he  was  starting  to  Florence,  and  now  " — 

"  He's  resting  on  the  way  ?  Well,  he'll  get  here 
about  as  quick  as  he  would  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
travel.  One  good  thing  about  Italy  is,  you  don't 
want  to  hurry  ;  if  you  did,  you'd  get  left." 

Belsky  stared  at  him  in  the  stupefaction  to  which 
the  American  humor  commonly  reduced  him.  "  If 
he  gets  left  on  the  Grossetto  line,  he  can  go  back  and 
come  up  by  Orvieto,  no  ?  " 

"  He  can,  if  he  isn't  in  a  hurry,"  Hinkle  assented. 
"  It's  a  good  way,  if  you've  got  time  to  burn." 

Belsky  did  not  attempt  to  explore  the  American's 
meaning.  "Do  you  know,"  he  asked,  "whether  Mrs. 
Lander  and  her  young  friend  are  still  in  Florence  ?  " 

"  I  guess  they  are." 

"  It  was  said  they  were  going  to  Venice  for  the 
summer." 

"  That's  what  the  doctor  advised  for  the  old  lady. 
But  they  don't  start  for  a  week  or  two  yet." 

"  Oh !  " 

"Are  you  going  to  Miss  Milray's,  Sunday  night? 
Last  of  the  season,  I  believe." 

Belsky  seemed  to  recall  himself  from  a  distance. 
"  No — n0j"  he  said,  and  he  moved  away,  forgetful  of 
the  ceremonious  salutation  which  he  commonly  used 
at  meeting  and  parting.  Hinkle  looked  after  him 


RAGGED    LADY.  205 

with  the  impression  people  have  of  a  difference  in  the 
appearance  and  behavior  of  some  one  whose  appear 
ance  and  behavior  do  not  particularly  concern  them. 

The  day  that  followed,  Belsky  haunted  the  hotel 
where  Gregory  was  to  arrive  with  his  pupil,  and  where 
the  pupil's  family  were  waiting  for  them.  That  night, 
long  after  their  belated  train  was  due,  they  came ;  the 
pupil  was  with  his  father  and  mother,  and  Gregory 
was  alone,  when  Belsky  asked  for  him,  the  fourth  or 
fifth  time. 

"  You  are  not  well,"  he  said,  as  they  shook  hands. 
"  You  are  fevered !  " 

"  I'm  tired,"  said  Gregory.  "  We've  had  a  bad 
time  getting  through." 

"  I  come  inconveniently !  You  have  not  dined, 
perhaps  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes.  I've  had  dinner.  Sit  down.  How 
have  you  been  yourself  ? " 

"  Oh,  always  well."  Belsky  sat  down,  and  the 
friends  stared  at  each  other.  "  I  have  strange  news 
for  you." 

"  For  me  ? " 

"  You.     She  is  here." 

"  She  ? " 

"  Yes.  The  young  girl  of  whom  you  told  me.  If 
I  had  not  forbidden  myself  by  my  loyalty  to  you — if 
I  had  not  said  to  myself  every  moment  in  her  pres 
ence,  *  No,  it  is  for  your  friend  alone  that  she  is  beau 
tiful  and  good  ! ' — But  you  will  have  nothing  to  re 
proach  me  in  that  regard." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  demanded  Gregory. 


206  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  mean  that  Miss  Claxon  is  in  Florence,  with  her 
protectress,  the  rich  Mrs.  Lander.  The  most  admired 
young  lady  in  society,  going  everywhere,  and  every 
where  courted  and  welcomed ;  the  favorite  of  the  fash 
ionable  Miss  Milray.  But  why  should  this  surprise 
you  ? " 

"  You  said  nothing  about  it  in  your  letters.  You  " — 

"  I  was  not  sure  it  was  she ;  you  never  told  me  her 
name.  When  I  had  divined  the  fact,  I  was  so  soon 
to  see  you,  that  I  thought  best  to  keep  it  till  we  met." 

Gregory  tried  to  speak,  but  he  let  Belsky  go  on. 

"  If  you  think  that  the  world  has  spoiled  her,  that 
she  will  be  different  from  what  she  was  in  her  home 
among  your  mountains,  let  me  reassure  you.  In  her 
you  will  find  the  miracle  of  a  woman  whom  no  flat 
tery  can  turn  the  head.  I  have  watched  her  in  your 
interest ;  I  have  tested  her.  She  is  what  you  saw  her 
last." 

"  Surely,"  asked  Gregory,  in  an  anguish  for  what 
he  now  dreaded,  "  you  haven't  spoken  to  her  of  me  ? " 

"  Not  by  name,  no.  I  could  not  have  that  indis 
cretion  " — 

"  The  name  is  nothing.  Have  you  said  that  you 
knew  me —  Of  course  not !  But  have  you  hinted  at 
any  knowledge —  Because  " — 

"  You  will  hear  ! "  said  Belsky ;  and  he  poured  out 
upon  Gregory  the  story  of  what  he  had  done.  "  She 
did  not  deny  anything.  She  was  greatly  moved,  but 
she  did  not  refuse  to  let  me  bid  you  hope  " — 

"  Oh  !  "  Gregory  took  his  head  between  his  hands. 
"  You  have  spoiled  my  life !  " 


RAGGED    LADY.  207 

*  Spoiled  !  "     Belsky  stopped  aghast. 

"  I  told  you  my  story  in  a  moment  of  despicable 
Weakness — of  impulsive  folly.  But  how  could  I 
dream  that  you  would  ever  meet  her  ?  How  could  I 
imagine  that  you  would  speak  to  her  as  you  have 
done  ?  "  He  groaned,  and  began  to  creep  giddily 
about  the  room  in  his  misery.  "Oh,  oh,  oh  !  What 
shall  I  do  ? " 

"  But  I  do  not  understand  !  "  Belsky  began.  "  If 
[  have  committed  an  error  " — 

"  Oh,  an  error  that  never  could  be  put  right  in  all 
eternity  ! " 

"  Then  let  me  go  to  her — let  me  tell  her  " — 

"  Keep  away  from  her !  "  shouted  Gregory.  "  Do 
you  hear  ?  Never  go  near  her  again  !  " 

"  Gregory ! " 

"  Ah,  I  beg  your  pardon  !  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
doing — saying.  What  will  she  think — what  will  she 
think  of  me  ! "  He  had  ceased  to  speak  to  Belsky  ; 
he  collapsed  into  a  chair,  and  hid  his  face  in  his  arms 
stretched  out  on  the  table  before  him. 

Belsky  watched  him  in  the  stupefaction  which  the 
artistic  nature  feels  when  life  proves  sentient  under 
its  hand,  and  not  the  mere  material  of  situations  and 
effects.  He  could  not  conceive  the  full  measure  of 
the  disaster  he  had  wrought,  the  outrage  of  his  own 
behavior  had  been  lost  to  him  in  his  preoccupation 
with  the  romantic  end  to  be  accomplished.  He  had 
meant  to  be  the  friend,  the  prophet,  to  these  Ameri 
can  lovers,  whom  he  was  reconciling  and  interpreting 
to  each  other ;  but  in  some  point  he  must  have  misun- 


208  RAGGED    LADY. 

derstood.  Yet  the  error  was  not  inexpiable ;  and  in 
his  expiation  he  could  put  the  seal  to  his  devotion. 
He  left  the  room,  where  Gregory  made  no  effort  to 
keep  him. 

He  walked  down  the  street  from  the  hotel  to  the 
Arno,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  stood  on  the  bridge, 
where  he  had  talked  with  that  joker  in  the  morning, 
as  they  looked  down  together  on  the  boiling  river. 
He  had  a  strange  wish  that  the  joker  might  have  been 
with  him  again,  to  learn  that  there  were  some  things 
which  could  not  be  joked  away. 

The  night  was  blustering,  and  the  wind  that  blew 
the  ragged  clouds  across  the  face  of  the  moon,  swooped 
in  sudden  gusts  upon  the  bridge,  and  the  deluge  roll 
ing  under  it  and  hoarsely  washing  against  its  piers. 
Belsky  leaned  over  the  parapet  and  looked  down  into 
the  eddies  and  currents  as  the  fitful  light  revealed 
them.  He  had  a  fantastic  pleasure  in  studying  them, 
and  choosing  the  moment  when  he  should  leap  the 
parapet  and  be  lost  in  them.  The  incident  could  not 
be  used  in  any  novel  of  his,  and  no  one  else  could  do 
such  perfect  justice  to  the  situation,  but  perhaps  af 
terwards,  when  the  facts  leading  to  his  death  should 
be  known  through  the  remorse  of  the  lovers  whom  he 
had  sought  to  serve,  some  other  artist-nature  could 
distil  their  subtlest  meaning  in  a  memoir  delicate  as 
the  aroma  of  a  faded  flower. 

He  was  willing  to  make  this  sacrifice,  too,  and  he 
stepped  back  a  pace  from  the  parapet  when  the  fitful 
blast  caught  his  hat  from  his  head,  and  whirled  it 
along  the  bridge.  The  whole  current  of  his  purpose 


RAGGED    LADY.  209 

changed,  and  as  if  it  bad  been  impossible  to  drown 
bimself  in  bis  bare  bead,  be  set  out  in  cbase  of  bis 
bat,  wbicb  rolled  and  gamboled  away,  and  escaped 
from  bis  clutcb  whenever  be  stooped  for  it,  till  a  final 
whiff  of  wind  flung  it  up  and  tossed  it  over  the  bridge 
into  the  river,  where  he  helplessly  watched  it  floating 
down  the  flood,  till  it  was  carried  out  of  sight. 


XXV. 

GREGORY  did  not  sleep,  and  he  did  not  find  peace 
in  the  prayers  he  put  up  for  guidance.  He  tried  to 
think  of  some  one  with  whom  he  might  take  counsel ; 
but  he  knew  no  one  in  Florence  except  the  parents  of 
his  pupil,  and  they  were  impossible.  He  felt  himself 
abandoned  to  the  impulse  which  he  dreaded,  in  going 
to  Clementina,  and  he  went  without  hope,  willing  to 
suffer  whatever  penalty  she  should  visit  upon  him, 
after  he  had  disavowed  Belsky's  action,  and  claimed 
the  responsibility  for  it. 

He  was  prepared  for  her  refusal  to  see  him ;  he  had 
imagined  her  wounded  and  pathetic ;  he  had  fancied 
her  insulted  and  indignant ;  but  she  met  him  eagerly 
and  with  a  mystifying  appeal  in  her  welcome.  He 
began  at  once,  without  attempting  to  bridge  the  time 
since  they  had  met  with  any  formalities. 

"  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you  about — that — Rus 
sian,  about  Baron  Belsky  " — 

"  Yes,  yes  ! "  she  returned,  anxiously.  "  Then  you 
have  hea'd  " — 

"  He  came  to  me  last  night,  and — I  want  to  say 
that  I  feel  myself  to  blame  for  what  he  has  done." 


RAGGED    LADY.  211 

"  YOU  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I.  I  never  spoke  of  you  by  name  to  him  ; 
I  didn't  dream  of  his  ever  seeing  you,  or  that  he  would 
dare  to  speak  to  you  of  what  I  told  him.  But  I  be 
lieve  he  meant  no  wrong ;  and  it  was  I  who  did  the 
harm,  whether  I  authorized  it  or  not." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  she  returned,  with  the  effect  of  putting 
his  words  aside  as  something  of  no  moment.  "  Have 
they  hea'd  anything  more  ? " 

"  How,  anything  more  ? "  he  returned,  in  a  daze. 

"Then,  don't  you  know?  About  his  falling  into 
the  river  ?  I  know  he  didn't  drown  himself." 

Gregory  shook  his  head.  "  When — what  makes 
them  think  " —  He  stopped  and  stared  at  her. 

"  Why,  they  know  that  he  went  down  to  the  Ponte 
Trinita  last  night;  somebody  saw  him  going.  And 
then  that  peasant  found  his  hat  with  his  name  in  it 
in  the  drift-wood  below  the  Cascine  " — 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregory,  lifelessly.  He  let  his  arms 
drop  forward,  and  his  helpless  hands  hang  over  his 
knees ;  his  gaze  fell  from  her  face  to  the  floor. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  time  that  seemed  long,  and  then 
it  was  Clementina  who  spoke.  "  But  it  isn't  true  ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  said  Gregory,  as  before. 

"Mr.  Hinkle  doesn't  believe  it  is,"  she  urged. 

"Mr.  Hinkle?" 

"  He's  an  American  who's  staying  in  Florence.  He 
came  this  mo'ning  to  tell  me  about  it.  Even  if  he's 
drowned  Mr.  Hinkle  believes  he  didn't  mean  to  ;  he 
must  have  just  fallen  in." 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?  "  demanded  Gregory,  lifting 


212  RAGGED    LADY. 

his  heavy  eyes.  "Whether  he  meant  it  or  not,  I 
caused  it.  I  drove  him  to  it." 

"  You  drove  him  ? " 

"  Yes.  He  told  me  what  he  had  said  to  you,  and 
I  said  that  he  had  spoiled  my  life — I  don't  know  ! " 

"  Well,  he  had  no  right  to  do  it ;  but  I  didn't  blame 
you,"  Clementina  began,  compassionately. 

"  It's  too  late.  It  can't  be  helped  now."  Gregory 
turned  from  the  mercy  that  could  no  longer  save  him. 
He  rose  dizzily,  and  tried  to  get  himself  away. 

"  You  mustn't  go  !  "  she  interposed.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  made  him  do  it.  Mr.  Hinkle  will  be  back 
soon,  and  he  will  " — 

"  If  he  should  bring  word  that  it  was  true  ? "  Greg 
ory  asked. 

"Well,"  said  Clementina,  "then  we  should  have  to 
bear  it." 

A  sense  of  something  finer  than  the  surface  mean 
ing  of  her  words  pierced  his  morbid  egotism.  "  I'm 
ashamed,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  let  me  stay  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  you  must,"  she  said,  and  if  there  was 
any  censure  of  him  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  she 
kept  it  there,  and  tried  to  talk  him  away  from  his  re 
morse,  which  was  in  his  temperament,  perhaps,  rather 
than  his  conscience ;  she  made  the  time  pass  till  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  she  opened  it  to  Hinkle. 

"  I  didn't  send  up  my  name ;  I  thought  I  wouldn't 
stand  upon  ceremony  just  now,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  returned.  "Mr.  Hinkle,  this  is 
Mr.  Gregory.  Mr.  Gregory  knew  Mr.  Belsky,  and  he 
thinks  " — 


RAGGED    LADY.  213 

She  turned  to  Gregory  for  prompting,  and  he  man 
aged  to  say,  "  I  don't  believe  he  was  quite  the  sort  of 
person  to —  And  yet  he  might — he  was  in  trouble  " — 

"  Money  trouble  ? "  asked  Ilinkle.  "  They  say 
these  Russians  have  a  perfect  genius  for  debt.  I  had 
a  little  inspiration,  since  I  saw  you,  but  there  doesn't 
seem  to  be  anything  in  it,  so  far."  He  addressed 
himself  to  Clementina,  but  he  included  Gregory  in 
what  he  said.  "It  struck  me  that  he  might  have 
been  running  his  board,  and  had  used  this  drowning 
episode  as  a  blind.  But  I've  been  around  to  his  ho 
tel,  and  he's  settled  up,  all  fair  and  square  enough. 
The  landlord  tried  to  think  of  something  he  hadn't 
paid,  but  he  couldn't;  and  I  never  saw  a  man  try 
harder,  either."  Clementina  smiled ;  she  put  her 
hand  to  her  mouth  to  keep  from  laughing ;  but  Greg 
ory  frowned  his  distress  in  the  untimely  drolling. 

"  I  don't  give  up  my  theory  that  it's  a  fake  of  some 
kind,  though.  He  could  leave  behind  a  good  many 
creditors  besides  his  landlord.  The  authorities  have 
sealed  up  his  effects,  and  they've  done  everything  but 
call  out  the  fire  department;  that's  on  duty  looking 
after  the  freshet,  and  it  couldn't  be  spared.  I'll  go 
out  now  and  slop  round  a  little  more  in  the  cause," — 
Hinkle  looked  down  at  his  shoes  and  his  drabbled 
trousers,  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face, — 
"  but  I  thought  I'd  drop  in,  and  tell  you  not  to  worry 
about  it,  Miss  Clementina.  I  would  stake  anything 
you  pleased  on  Mr.  Belsky's  safety.  Mr.  Gregory, 
here,  looks  like  he  would  be  willing  to  take  odds,"  he 
suggested. 


214  BAGGED    LADY. 

Gregory  commanded  himself  from  his  misery  to 
say,  "  I  wish  I  could  believe — I  mean  " — 

"  Of  course,  we  don't  want  to  think  that  the  man's 
a  fraud,  any  more  than  that  he's  dead.  Perhaps  we 
might  hit  upon  some  middle  course.  At  any  rate,  it's 
worth  trying." 

"  May  I — do  you  object  to  my  joining  you  ? " 
Gregory  asked. 

"  Why,  come ! "  Hinkle  hospitably  assented.  "  Glad 
to  have  you.  I'll  be  back  again,  Miss  Clementina  !  " 

Gregory  was  going  away  without  any  form  of  leave- 
taking;  but  he  turned  back  to  ask,  "  Will  you  let  me 
come  back,  too  ?  " 

"  Why,  suttainly,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Clementina, 
and  she  went  to  find  Mrs.  Lander,  whom  she  found 
in  bed. 

"I  thought  I'd  lay  down,"  she  explained.  "  I  don't 
believe  I'm  goin'  to  be  sick,  but  it's  one  of  my  pooa 
days,  and  I  might  just  as  well  be  in  bed  as  not." 
Clementina  agreed  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Lander  asked: 
"  You  hea'd  anything  moa  ?  " 

"  No.  Mr.  Hinkle  has  just  been  he'a,  but  he  hadn't 
any  news." 

Mrs.  Lander  turned  her  face  toward  the  wall. 
"  Next  thing,  he'll  be  drownin'  himself.  I  neva> 
wanted  you  should  have  anything  to  do  with  the  fel 
las  that  go  to  that  woman's.  There  ain't  any  of  'em 
to  be  depended  on." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  her  growing  jealousy  of 
Miss  Milray  had  openly  declared  itself;  but  Clemen 
tina  had  felt  it  before,  without  knowing  how  to  meet 


RAGGED    LADY.  215 

it.  As  an  escape  from  it  now  she  was  almost  willing 
to  say,  "  Mrs.  Lander,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Gregory  has  just  been  he'a,  too." 

"  Mr.  Gregory  ? " 

"Yes.  Don't  you  remember?  At  the  Middle- 
mount  ?  The  first  summa  ?  He  was  the  headwaita 
— that  student." 

Mrs.  Lander  jerked  her  head  round  on  the  pillow. 
"  Well,  of  all  the— What  does  he  want,  over  he'a  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  That  is — he's  travelling  with  a  pupil 
that  he's  preparing  for  college,  and — he  came  to  see 
us"— 

"  D'you  tell  him  /  couldn't  see  him  ?  " 

«Yes"— 

"  I  guess  he'd  think  I  was  a  pretty  changed  pusson  ! 
Now,  I  want  you  should  stay  with  me,  Clementina, 
and  if  anybody  else  comes  " — 

Maddalena  entered  the  room  with  a  card  which  she 
gave  to  the  girl. 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  Mrs.  Lander  demanded. 

"  Miss  Milray." 

"  Of  cou'se  !  Well,  you  may  just  send  wo'd  that 
you  can't —  Or,  no ;  you  must !  She'd  have  it  all  ova 
the  place,  by  night,  that  I  wouldn't  let  you  see  her. 
But  don't  you  make  any  excuse  for  me  !  If  she  asks 
after  me,  don't  you  say  I'm  sick  !  You  say  I'm  not 
at  home." 

"  I've  come  about  that  little  wretch,"  Miss  Milray 
began,  after  kissing  Clementina.  "I  didn't  know 
but  you  had  heard  something  I  hadn't,  or  I  had  heard 
something  you  hadn't,  You  know  I  belong  to  the 


216  RAGGED    LADY. 

Hinklc  persuasion  :  I  think  Belsky's  run  his  board — 
as  Mr.  Hinkle  calls  it." 

Clementina  explained  how  this  part  of  the  Hinklc 
theory  had  failed,  and  then  Miss  Milray  devolved 
upon  the  belief  that  he  had  run  his  tailor's  bill  or  his 
shoemaker's.  "  They  arc  delightful,  those  Russians, 
but  they're  born  insolvent.  I  don't  believe  he's 
drowned  himself.  How,"  she  broke  off  to  ask,  in  a 
burlesque  whisper,  "  is — the — old — tabby  ?  "  She 
laughed,  for  answer  to  her  own  question,  and  then 
with  another  sudden  diversion  she  demanded  of  a  look 
in  Clementina's  face  which  would  not  be  laughed 
away,  "  Well,  my  dear,  what  is  it  ? " 

"  Miss  Milray,"  said  the  girl,  "  should  you  think 
me  very  silly,  if  I  told  you  something — silly  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least !  "  cried  Miss  Milray,  joyously. 
"  It's  the  final  proof  of  your  wisdom  that  I've  been 
waiting  for?  " 

"  It's  because  Mr.  Belsky  is  all  mixed  up  in  it," 
said  Clementina,  as  if  some  excuse  were  necessary, 
and  then  she  told  the  story  of  her  love  affair  with 
Gregory.  Miss  Milray  punctuated  the  several  facts 
with  vivid  nods,  but  at  the  end  she  did  not  ask  her 
anything,  and  the  girl  somehow  felt  the  freer  to  add : 
"  I  believe  I  will  tell  you  his  name.  It  is  Mr.  Greg 
ory — Frank  Gregory  " — 

"  And  he's  been  in  Egypt  ? " 

"  Yes,  the  whole  winta." 

"  Then  he's  the  one  that  my  sister-in-law  has  been 
writing  me  about !  " 

"  Oh,  did  he  meet  her  the'a  ?  " 


RAGGED    LADY.  217 

"  I  should  think  so  !  And  he'll  meet  her  here,  very 
soon.  She's  coming,  with  my  poor  brother.  I  meant 
to  tell  you,  but  this  ridiculous  Belsky  business  drove 
it  out  of  my  head." 

"  And  do  you  think,"  Clementina  entreated,  "  that 
he  was  to  blame  ? " 

"  Why,  I  don't  believe  he's  done  it,  you  know." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  Mr.  Belsky.  I  meant — Mr. 
Gregory.  For  telling  Mr.  Belsky  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.  Men  always  tell  those  things  to 
some  one,  I  suppose.  Nobody  was  to  blame  but  Bel- 
sky,  for  his  meddling." 

Miss  Milray  rose  and  shook  out  her  plumes  for 
flight,  as  if  she  were  rather  eager  for  flight,  but  at  the 
little  sigh  with  which  Clementina  said,  "  Yes,  that  is 
what  I  thought,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  was  going  to  run  away,  for  I  shouldn't  like  to 
mix  myself  up  in  your  affair — it's  certainly  a  very 
strange  one — unless  I  was  sure  I  could  help  you.  But 
if  you  think  I  can  " — 

Clementina  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  believe  you 
can,"  she  said,  with  a  candor  so  wistful  that  Miss  Mil- 
ray  stopped  quite  short.  "  How  does  Mr.  Gregory 
take  this  Belsky  business  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  guess  he  feels  it  moa  than  I  do,"  said  the  girl. 

"  He  shows  his  feeling  more  ? " 

"  Yes — no —     He  believes  he  drove  him  to  it." 

Miss  Milray  took  her  hand,  for  parting,  but  did  not 
kiss  her.  "  I  won't  advise  you,  my  dear.  In  fact, 
you  haven't  asked  me  to.  You'll  know  what  to  do,  if 
you  haven't  done  it  already ;  girls  usually  have,  when 


218 


BAGGED    LADY. 


they  want  advice.  Was  there  something  you  were 
going  to  say  ? " 

"  Oh,  no.  Nothing.  Do  you  think,"  she  hesitated, 
appealingly,  "do  you  think  we  are— engaged  ?" 

"If  he's  anything  of  a  man  at  all,  he  must  think 
he  is." 

"Yes,"  said  Clementina,  wistfully,  "I  guess  he 
does." 

Miss  Milray  looked  sharply  at  her.  "  And  docs 
he  think  you  are  ? " 

"  I  don't  know — he  didn't  say." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Milray,  rather  dryly,  "  then  it's 
something  for  you  to  think  over  pretty  carefully." 


XXVI. 

HIXKLE  came  back  in  the  afternoon  to  make  a  hope 
ful  report  of  his  failure  to  learn  anything  more  of 
Belsky,  but  Gregory  did  not  come  with  him.  He 
came  the  next  morning  long  before  Clementina  ex 
pected  visitors,  and  he  was  walking  nervously  up  and 
down  the  room  when  she  appeared.  As  if  he  could 
not  speak,  he  held  toward  her  without  speaking  a  tel 
egram  in  English,  dated  that  day  in  Rome : 

"  Deny  report  of  my  death.     Have  written. 

"  Belslcy." 

She  looked  up  at  Gregory  from  the  paper,  when 
she  had  read  it,  with  joyful  eyes.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  glad 
for  you !  I  am  so  glad  he  is  alive." 

He  took  the  dispatch  from  her  hand.  "  I  brought  it 
to  you  as  soon  as  it  came." 

"Yes,  yes!     Of  cou'se  !  " 

"  I  must  go  now  and  do  what  he  says —  I  don't 
know  how  yet."  He  stopped,  and  then  went  on  from 
a  different  impulse.  "  Clementina,  it  isn't  a  question 
now  of  that  wretch's  life  and  death,  and  I  wish  I  need 
never  speak  of  him  again.  But  what  he  told  you  was 
true."  He  looked  steadfastly  at  her,  and  she  realized 
how  handsome  he  was,  and  how  well  dressed.  His 


220  RAGGED    LADY. 

thick  red  hair  seemed  to  have  grown  darker  above  his 
forehead ;  his  moustache  was  heavier,  and  it  curved 
in  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth ;  he  bore  himself  with 
a  sort  of  self-disdain  that  enhanced  his  splendor.  "  I 
have  never  changed  toward  you;  I  don't  say  it  to 
make  favor  with  you  ;  I  don't  expect  to  do  that  now ; 
but  it  is  true.  That  night,  there  at  Middlemount,  I 
tried  to  take  back  what  I  said,  because  I  believed  that 
I  ought." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  knew  that,"  said  Clementina,  in  the 
pause  he  made. 

"  We  were  both  too  young ;  I  had  no  prospect  in 
life ;  I  saw,  the  instant  after  I  had  spoken,  that  I  had 
no  right  to  let  you  promise  anything.  I  tried  to  for 
get  you  ;  I  couldn't.  I  tried  to  make  you  forget  me." 
He  faltered,  and  she  did  not  speak,  but  her  head 
drooped  a  little.  "  I  won't  ask  how  far  I  succeeded. 
I  always  hoped  that  the  time  would  come  when  I 
could  speak  to  you  again.  When  I  heard  from  Fane 
that  you  were  at  Woodlake,  I  wished  to  come  out  and 
see  you,  but  I  hadn't  the  courage,  I  hadn't  the  right. 
I've  had  to  come  to  you  without  either,  now.  Did 
he  speak  to  you  about  me  ? " 

"  I  thought  he  was  beginning  to,  once ;  but  he  neva 
did." 

"  It  didn't  matter ;  it  could  only  have  made  bad 
worse.  It  can't  help  me  to  say  that  somehow  I  was 
wishing  and  trying  to  do  what  was  right ;  but  I  was." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that,  Mr.  Gregory,"  said  Clementina, 
generously. 

"Then  you  didn't  doubt  me,  in  spite  of  all?" 


RAGGED    LADY.  221 

"  I  thought  you  would  know  what  to  do.  No,  I 
didn't  doubt  you,  exactly." 

"  I  didn't  deserve  your  trust !  "  he  cried.  "  How 
came  that  man  to  mention  me  ? "  he  demanded,  abrupt 
ly,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Mr.  Belsky  ?  It  was  the  first  night  I  saw  him, 
and  we  were  talking  about  Americans,  and  he  began 
to  tell  me  about  an  American  friend  of  his,  who  was 
very  conscientious.  I  thought  it  must  be  you  the 
fust  moment,"  said  Clementina,  smiling  with  an  im 
personal  pleasure  in  the  fact. 

"  From  the  conscientiousness  ? "  he  asked,  in  bitter 
self-irony. 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  returned,  simply.  "  That  was 
what  made  me  think  of  you.  And  the  last  time  when 
he  began  to  talk  about  you,  I  couldn't  stop  him,  al 
though  I  knew  he  had  no  right  to." 

"  He  had  no  right.  But  I  gave  him  the  power  to 
do  it !  He  meant  no  harm,  but  I  enabled  him  to  do 
all  the  harm." 

"  Oh,  if  he's  only  alive,  now,  there  is  no  harm ! " 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a  misgiving  from 
which  he  burst  impetuously.  "  Then  you  do  care  for 
me  still,  after  all  that  I  have  done  to  make  you  detest 
me  ? "  He  started  toward  her,  but  she  shrank  back. 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  she  hesitated. 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you, — that  I  have  always 
loved  you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  assented.  "  But  you  might  be  sorry 
again  that  you  had  said  it."  It  sounded  like  coquetry, 
but  he  knew  it  was  not  coquetry. 


222  RAGGED    LADY. 

"Never!  I've  wished  to  say  it  again,  ever  since 
that  night  at  Middlemount ;  I  have  always  felt  bound 
by  what  I  said  then,  though  I  took  back  my  words 
for  your  sake.  But  the  promise  was  always  there, 
and  my  life  was  in  it.  You  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  always  believed  what  you  said,  Mr.  Greg 
ory." 

"Well?" 

Clementina  paused,  with  her  head  seriously  on  one 
side.  "  I  should  want  to  think  about  it  before  I  said 
anything." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  submitted,  dropping  his  out 
stretched  arms  to  his  side.  "  I  have  been  thinking 
only  of  myself,  as  usual." 

"  No,"  she  protested,  compassionately.  "  But 
doesn't  it  seem  as  if  we  ought  to  be  su'a,  this  time  ? 
I  did  ca'e  for  you  then,  but  I  was  very  young,  and  I 
don't  know  yet —  I  thought  I  had  always  felt  just  as 
you  did,  but  now —  Don't  you  think  we  had  both 
betta  wait  a  little  while  till  we  ah'  moa  suttain  ? " 

They  stood  looking  at  each  other,  and  he  said,  with 
a  kind  of  passionate  self-denial,  "Yes,  think  it  over 
for  me,  too.  I  will  come  back,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  she  cried  after  him,  gratefully, 
as  if  his  forbearance  were  the  greatest  favor. 

When  he  was  gone  she  tried  to  release  herself  from 
the  kind  of  abeyance  in  which  she  seemed  to  have 
gone  back  and  been  as  subject  to  him  as  in  the  first 
days  when  he  had  awed  her  and  charmed  her  with 
his  superiority  at  Middlemount,  and  be  again  older 
and  freer  as  she  had  grown  since. 


RAGGED    LADY.  223 

He  came  back  late  in  the  afternoon,  looking  jaded 
and  distraught.  Hinkle,  who  looked  neither,  was 
with  him.  "  Well,"  he  began,  "  this  is  the  greatest 
thing  in  my  experience.  Belsky's  not  only  alive  and 
well,  but  Mr.  Gregory  and  I  are  both  at  large.  I  did 
think,  one  time,  that  the  police  would  take  us  into 
custody  on  account  of  our  morbid  interest  in  the  thing, 
and  I  don't  believe  we  should  have  got  off,  if  the 
Consul  hadn't  gone  bail  for  us,  so  to  speak.  I  thought 
we  had  better  take  the  Consul  in,  on  our  way,  and  it 
was  lucky  we  did." 

Clementina  did  not  understand  all  the  implications, 
but  she  was  willing  to  take  Mr.  Hinkle's  fun  on  trust. 
"  I  don't  believe  you'll  convince  Mrs.  Landa  that  Mr. 
Belsky's  alive  and  well,  till  you  bring  him  back  to  say 
so." 

"  Is  that  so  !  "  said  Hinkle.  "  Well,  we  must  have 
him  brought  back  by  the  authorities,  then.  Perhaps 
they'll  bring  him,  anyway.  They  can't  try  him  for 
suicide,  but  as  I  understand  the  police,  here,  a  man 
can't  lose  his  hat  over  a  bridge  in  Florence  with  im 
punity,  especially  in  a  time  of  high  water.  Anyway, 
they're  identifying  Belsky  by  due  process  of  law  in 
Rome,  now,  and  I  guess  Mr.  Gregory " — he  nodded 
toward  Gregory,  who  sat  silent  and  absent — "  will  be 
kept  under  surveillance  till  the  whole  mystery  is 
cleared  up." 

Clementina  responded  gayly  still,  but  with  less  and 
less  sincerity,  and  she  let  Hinkle  go  at  last  with  the 
feeling  that  he  knew  she  wished  him  to  go.  He 
made  a  brave  show  of  not  seeing  this,  and  when  he 


224  RAGGED    LADY. 

was  gone,  she  remembered  that  she  had  not  thanked 
him  for  the  trouble  he  had  taken  on  her  account,  and 
her  heart  ached  after  him  with  a  sense  of  his  sweet 
ness  and  goodness,  which  she  had  felt  from  the  first 
through  his  quaint  drolling.  It  was  as  if  the  door 
which  closed  upon  him  shut  her  out  of  the  life  she 
had  been  living  of  late,  and  into  the  life  of  the  past 
where  she  was  subject  again  to  the  spell  of  Gregory's 
mood ;  it  was  hardly  his  will. 

He  began  at  once :  "  I  wished  to  make  you  say 
something  this  morning  that  I  have  no  right  to  hear 
you  say,  yet ;  and  I  have  been  trying  ever  since  to 
think  how  I  could  ask  you  whether  you  could  share 
my  life  with  me,  and  yet  not  ask  you  to  do  it.  But 
I  can't  do  anything  without  knowing —  You  may 
not  care  for  what  my  life  is  to  be,  at  all !  " 

Clementina's  head  drooped  a  little,  but  she  answered 
distinctly,  "  I  do  ca'e,  Mr.  Gregory." 

"  Thank  you  for  that  much ;  I  don't  count  upon 
more  than  you  have  said.  Clementina,  I  am  going  to 
be  a  missionary.  I  think  I  shall  ask  to  be  sent  to 
China ;  I've  not  decided  yet.  My  life  will  be  hard  ; 
it  will  be  full  of  danger  and  privation  ;  it  will  be  exile. 
You  will  have  to  think  of  sharing  such  a  life  if  you 
think  "— 

He  stopped ;  the  time  had  come  for  her  to  speak, 
and  she  said,  "  I  knew  you  wanted  to  be  a  missionary." 

"  And — and — you  would  go  with  me  ?  You  would  " 
— He  started  toward  her,  and  she  did  not  shrink 
from  him,  now  ;  but  he  checked  himself.  "  But  you 
mustn't,  you  know,  for  my  sake." 


'  AND — AND — YOU  WOULD  GO  WITH  ME  ?'  " 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

&^'F, 


f   UNIVERSITY    1 

RAGGED    LADY.  225 


lon't  believe  I  quite  undastand,"  she  faltered. 
m  must  not  do  it  for  me,  but  for  what  makes 
it.     "Without  that  our  life,  our  work,  could 
j  consecration." 

gazed  at  him  in  patient,  faintly  smiling  be- 
nent,  as  if  it  were  something  he  would  unriddle 
p  when  he  chose. 

e  mustn't  err  in  this ;  it  would  be  worse  than 
it  would  be  sin."  He  took  a  turn  about  the 
and  then  stopped  before  her.  "  Will  you — 

ou  join  me  in  a  prayer  for  guidance,  Clemen- 

•.  ?» 

— I  don't  know,"  she  hesitated.     "  I  will,  but — 
a.  think  I  had  betta  ?  " 

•.  began,  "  Why,  surely  " —     After  a  moment  he 
i  gravely,  "  You  believe  that  our  actions  will  be 
A  aright,  if  we  seek  help  ? " 
Oh,  yes — yes" — 

4  And  that  if  we  do  not,  we  shall  stumble  in  our 
ignorance  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  never  thought  of  that." 
"  Never  thought  of  it  ?  " 

"  We  never  did  it  in  our  family.  Father  always 
said  that  if  we  really  wanted  to  do  right  we  could  find 
the  way."  Gregory  looked  daunted,  and  then  he 
frowned  darkly.  "  Are  you  provoked  with  me  ?  Do 
you  think  what  I  have  said  is  wrong  ? " 

"  No,  no  !     You  must  say  what  you  believe.     It 
would  be  double  hypocrisy  in  me  if  I  prevented  you." 
"  But  I  would  do  it,  if  you  wanted  me  to,"  she 
said. 

O 


226  RAGGED    LADY. 

"Oil,  for  me,  for  me!"  he  protested.  "I  will  try 
to  tell  you  what  I  mean,  and  why  you  must  not,  for 
that  very  reason."  But  he  had  to  speak  of  himself, 
of  the  miracle  of  finding  her  again  by  the  means  which 
should  have  lost  her  to  him  forever ;  and  of  the  sig 
nificance  of  this.  Then  it  appeared  to  him  that  he 
could  not  reject  such  a  leading  without  error,  without 
sin.  ll  Such  a  thing  could  not  have  merely  happened." 

It  seemed  so  to  Clementina,  too ;  she  eagerly  con 
sented  that  this  was  something  they  must  think  of,  as 
well.  But  the  light  waned,  the  dark  thickened  in  the 
room  before  he  left  her  to  do  so.  Then  he  said  fer 
vently,  "  We  must  not  doubt  that  everything  will  come 
right,"  and  his  words  seemed  an  effect  of  inspiration 
to  them  both. 


XXVII. 

AFTER  Gregory  was  gone  a  misgiving  began  in 
Clementina's  mind,  which  grew  more  distinct,  through 
all  the  difficulties  of  accounting  to  Mrs.  Lander  for 
his  long  stay.  The  girl  could  see  that  it  was  with  an 
obscure  jealousy  that  she  pushed  her  questions,  and 
said  at  last,  "  That  Mr.  Hinkle  is  about  the  best  of 
the  lot.  He's  the  only  one  that's  eva  had  the  man 
nas  to  ask  after  me,  except  that  lo'd.  He  did." 

Clementina  could  not  pretend  that  Gregory  had 
asked,  but  she  could  not  blame  him  for  a  forgetfulness 
of  Mrs.  Lander  which  she  had  shared  with  him.  This 
helped  somehow  to  deepen  the  misgiving  which  fol 
lowed  her  from  Mrs.  Lander's  bed  to  her  own,  and 
haunted  her  far  into  the  night.  She  could  escape 
from  it  only  by  promising  herself  to  deal  with  it  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  She  did  this  in  terms 
much  briefer  than  she  thought  she  could  have  com 
manded.  She  supposed  she  would  have  to  write  a 
very  long  letter,  but  she  came  to  the  end  of  all  she 
need  say,  in  a  very  few  lines. 
"DEAR  MR.  GREGORY: 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  what  you  said  yester 
day,  and  I  have  to  tell  you  something.  Then  you 


228  RAGGED    LADY. 

can  do  what  is  right  for  both  of  us ;  you  will  know 
better  than  I  can.  But  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  if  I  go  with  you  in  your  missionary  life,  I  shall 
do  it  for  you,  and  not  for  anything  else.  I  would  go 
anywhere  and  live  anyhow  for  you,  but  it  would  be 
for  you  ;  I  do  not  believe  that  I  am  religious,  and  I 
know  that  /  should  not  do  it  for  religion. 

"  That  is  all ;  but  I  could  not  get  any  peace  till  I  let 
you  know  just  how  I  felt. 

"  CLEMENTINA  CLAXON." 

The  letter  went  early  in  the  morning,  though  not 
so  early  but  it  was  put  in  Gregory's  hand  as  he  was 
leaving  his  hotel  to  go  to  Mrs.  Lander's.  He  tore  it 
open,  and  read  it  on  the  way,  and  for  the  first  mo 
ment  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  Providence  leading  him 
that  he  might  lighten  Clementina's  heart  of  its  doubts 
with  the  least  delay.  He  had  reasoned  that  if  she 
would  share  for  his  sake  the  life  that  he  should  live 
for  righteousness'  sake  they  would  be  equally  blest  in 
it,  and  it  would  be  equally  consecrated  in  both.  But 
this  luminous  conclusion  faded  in  his  thought  as  he 
hurried  on,  and  he  found  himself  in  her  presence  with 
something  like  a  hope  that  she  would  be  inspired  to 
help  him. 

His  soul  lifted  at  the  sound  of  the  gay  voice  in 
which  she  asked,  "  Did  you  get  my  letta  ? "  and  it 
seemed  for  the  instant  as  if  there  could  be  no  trouble 
that  their  love  could  not  overcome. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  he  put  his  arms  around  her, 
but  with  a  provisionality  in  his  embrace  which  she 
subtly  perceived. 


RAGGED    LADY.  229 

"And  what  did  you  think  of  it?"  she  asked. 
"  Did  you  think  I  was  silly  ? " 

He  was  aware  that  she  had  trusted  him  to  do  away 
her  misgiving.  "  No,  no,"  he  answered,  guiltily. 
"  Wiser  than  I  am,  always.  I — I  want  to  talk  with 
you  about  it,  Clementina.  I  want  you  to  advise  me." 

He  felt  her  shrink  from  him,  and  with  a  pang  he 
opened  his  arms  to  free  her.  But  it  was  right ;  he 
must.  She  had  been  expecting  him  to  say  that  there 
was  nothing  in  her  misgiving,  and  he  could  not  say  it. 

"  Clementina,"  he  entreated,  "  why  do  you  think 
you  are  not  religious  ? " 

"  Why,  I  have  never  belonged  to  chu'ch,"  she  an 
swered  simply.  He  looked  so  daunted,  that  she  tried 
to  soften  the  blow  after  she  had  dealt  it.  "  Of  course, 
I  always  went  to  chu'ch,  though  father  and  motha 
didn't.  I  went  to  the  Episcopal — to  Mr.  Richling's. 
But  I  neva  was  confirmed." 

11  But— you  believe  in  God  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly  !  " 

"  And  in  the  Bible  ? " 

"Why,  of  cou'se!" 

"  And  that  it  is  our  duty  to  bear  the  truth  to  those 
who  have  never  heard  of  it  ? " 

"  I  know  that  is  the  way  you  feel  about  it;  but  I 
am  not  certain  that  I  should  feel  so  myself  if  you 
didn't  want  me  to.  That's  what  I  got  to  thinking 
about  last  night."  She  added  hopefully,  "  But  per 
haps  it  isn't  so  great  a  thing  as  I " — 

"  It's  a  very  great  thing,"  he  said,  and  from  stand 
ing  in  front  of  her,  he  now  sat  down  beyond  a  little 


230  RAGGED    LADY. 

table  before  her  sofa.  "  How  can  I  ask  you  to  share 
my  life  if  you  don't  share  my  faith  ? " 

"  Why,  I  should  try  to  believe  everything  that  you 
do,  of  cou'se." 

"  Because  I  do  3  " 

«  Well— yes." 

"  You  wring  my  heart !  Are  you  willing  to  study 
— to  look  into  these  questions — to — to  " —  It  all 
seemed  very  hopeless,  very  absurd,  but  she  answered 
seriously : 

"  Yes,  but  I  believe  it  would  all  come  back  to  just 
where  it  is,  now." 

"  What  you  say,  Clementina,  makes  me  so  happy ; 
but  it  ought  to  make  me — miserable  !  And  you  would 
do  all  this,  be  all  this  for  me,  a  wretched  and  erring 
creature  of  the  dust,  and  yet  not  do  it  for — God  ? " 

Clementina  could  only  say,  "  Perhaps  if  He  meant 
me  to  do  it  for  Him,  He  would  have  made  me  want 
to.  He  made  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregory,  and  for  a  long  time  he  could 
not  say  any  more.  He  sat  with  his  elbow  on  the 
table,  and  his  head  against  his  lifted  hand. 

"  You  see,"  she  began,  gently,  "  I  got  to  thinking 
that  even  if  I  eva  came  to  believe  what  you  wanted 
me  to,  I  should  be  doing  it  after  all,  because  you 
wanted  me  to  " — 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  answered,  desolately.  "There  is 
no  way  out  of  it.  If  you  only  hated  me,  Clementina, 
despised  me — I  don't  mean  that.  But  if  you  were 
not  so  good,  I  could  have  more  hope  for  you — for 
myself.  It's  because  you  are  so  good  that  I  can't 


RAGGED    LADY.  231 

make  myself  wish  to  change  you,  and  yet  I  know — I 
am  afraid  that  if  you  told  me  my  life  and  objects  were 
wrong,  I  should  turn  from  them,  and  be  whatever 
you  said.  Do  you  tell  me  that  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  cried  Clementina,  with  abhorrence. 
"  Then  I  should  despise  you." 

He  seemed  not  to  heed  her.  He  moved  his  lips  as 
if  he  were  talking  to  himself,  and  he  pleaded,  "  What 
shall  we  do?" 

"  We  must  try  to  think  it  out,  and  if  we  can't — if 
you  can't  let  me  give  up  to  you  unless  I  do  it  for  the 
same  reason  that  you  do ;  and  if  I  can't  let  you  give 
up  for  me,  and  I  know  I  could  neva  do  that ;  then — 
we  mustn't ! " 

"  Do  you  mean,  we  must  part  ?  Not  see  each  oth 
er  again  ? " 

"  What  use  would  it  be  ? " 

"  None,"  he  owned.  She  had  risen,  and  he  stood 
up  perforce.  "  May  I — may  I  come  back  to  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  ? "  she  asked. 

"  You  are  right !  If  I  can't  make  it  right,  I  won't 
come.  But  I  won't  say  good  bye.  I — can't." 

She  let  him  go,  and  Maddalena  came  in  at  the  door. 
"  Signorina,"  she  said,  "  the  signora  is  not  well.  Shall 
I  send  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Maddalena.  Run  !  "  cried  Clementina, 
distractedly.  She  hurried  to  Mrs.  Lander's  room, 
where  she  found  her  too  sick  for  reproaches,  for  any 
thing  but  appeals  for  help  and  pity.  The  girl  had 
not  to  wait  for  Doctor  Welwright's  coming  to  under 
stand  that  the  attack  was  severer  than  any  before. 


232  RAGGED    LADY. 

It  lasted  through  the  day,  and  she  could  see  that  he 
was  troubled.  It  had  not  followed  upon  any  impru 
dence,  as  Mrs.  Lander  pathetically  called  Clementina 
to  witness  when  her  pain  had  been  so  far  quelled  that 
she  could  talk  of  her  seizure. 

He  found  her  greatly  weakened  by  it  the  next  day, 
and  he  sat  looking  thoughtfully  at  her  before  he  said 
that  she  needed  toning  up.  She  caught  at  the  notion. 
"  Yes,  yes  !  That's  what  I  need,  docta  !  Toning  up  ! 
That's  what  I  need." 

He  suggested,  "  How  would  you  like  to  try  the  sea- 
air,  and  the  baths — at  Venice  ? " 

"  Oh,  anything,  anywhere,  to  get  out  of  this  dread 
ful  hole  !  I  ha'n't  had  a  well  minute  since  I  came. 
And  Clementina,"  the  sick  woman  whimpered,  "  is  so 
taken  up  all  the  time,  he'a,  that  I  can't  get  the  right 
attention." 

The  doctor  looked  compassionately  away  from  the 
girl,  and  said,  "  Well,  we  must  arrange  about  getting 
you  off,  then." 

"  But  I  want  you  should  go  with  me,  doctor,  and 
see  me  settled  all  right.  You  can,  can't  you  ?  I 
sha'n't  ca'e  how  much  it  costs  ? " 

The  doctor  said  gravely  he  thought  he  could  man 
age  it  and  he  ignored  the  long  unconscious  sigh  of 
relief  that  Clementina  drew. 

In  all  her  confusing  anxieties  for  Mrs.  Lander, 
Gregory  remained  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  a  dumb 
ache.  When  the  pressure  of  her  fears  was  taken 
from  her  she  began  to  suffer  for  him  consciously; 
then  a  letter  came  from  him : 


RAGGED    LADY.  233 

"  I  cannot  make  it  right.  It  is  where  it  was,  and  I 
feel  that  I  must  not  see  you  again.  I  am  trying  to 
do  right,  but  with  the  fear  that  I  am  wrong.  Send 
some  word  to  help  me  before  I  go  away  to-morrow. 

F.  G." 

It  was  what  she  had  expected,  she  knew  now,  but 
it  was  none  the  less  to  be  borne  because  of  her  expec 
tation.  She  wrote  back : 

"  I  believe  you  are  doing  the  best  you  can,  and  I 
shall  always  believe  that.  C.  C." 

Her  note  brought  back  a  long  letter  from  him.  He 
said  that  whatever  he  did,  or  wherever  he  went,  he 
should  try  to  be  true  to  her  ideal  of  him.  If  they 
renounced  their  love  now  for  the  sake  of  what  seemed 
higher  than  their  love,  they  might  suffer,  but  they 
could  not  choose  but  do  as  they  were  doing. 

Clementina  was  trying  to  make  what  she  could  of 
this  when  Miss  Milray's  name  came  up,  and  Miss  Mil- 
ray  followed  it. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  after  Mrs.  Lander,  and  I  want 
you  to  tell  her  I  did.  Will  you?  Dr.  Welwright 
says  he's  going  to  take  her  to  Venice.  Well,  I'm 
sorry — sorry  for  your  going,  Clementina,  and  I'm 
truly  sorry  for  the  cause  of  it.  I  shall  miss  you,  my 
dear,  I  shall  indeed.  You  know  I  always  wanted  to 
steal  you,  but  you'll  do  me  the  justice  to  say  I  never 
did,  and  I  won't  try,  now." 

"Perhaps  I  wasn't  worth  stealing,"  Clementina 
suggested,  with  a  ruefulness  in  her  smile  that  went  to 
Miss  Milray's  heart. 


234  RAGGED    LADY. 

She  put  her  arms  round  her  and  kissed  her.  "  I 
wasn't  very  kind  to  you,  the  other  day,  Clementina, 
was  I «  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Clementina  faltered,  with  half 
averted  face. 

"  Yes,  you  do  !  I  was  trying  to  make-believe  that 
I  didn't  want  to  meddle  with  your  affairs;  but  I  was 
really  vexed  that  you  hadn't  told  me  your  story  before. 
It  hasn't  taken  me  all  this  time  to  reflect  that  you 
couldn't,  but  it  has  to  make  myself  come  and  confess 
that  I  had  been  dry  and  cold  with  you."  She  hesi 
tated.  "  It's  come  out  all  right,  hasn't  it,  Clemen 
tina  ? "  she  asked,  tenderly.  "  You  see  I  want  to 
meddle,  now." 

"  We  ah'  trying  to  think  so,"  sighed  the  girl. 

"  Tell  me  about  it !  "  Miss  Milray  pulled  her  down 
on  the  sofa  with  her,  and  modified  her  embrace  to  a 
clasp  of  Clementina's  hands. 

"  Why,  there  isn't  much  to  tell,"  she  began,  but 
she  told  what  there  was,  and  Miss  Milray  kept  her 
countenance  concerning  the  scruple  that  had  parted 
Clementina  and  her  lover.  "  Perhaps  he  wouldn't 
have  thought  of  it,"  she  said,  in  a  final  self-reproach, 
"  if  I  hadn't  put  it  into  his  head." 

"Well,  then,  I'm  not  sorry  you  put  it  into  his 
head,"  cried  Miss  Milray.  "  Clementina,  may  I  say 
what  /  think  of  Mr.  Gregory's  performance  ? " 

"  Why,  certainly,  Miss  Milray  !  " 

"  I  think  he's  not  merely  a  gloomy  little  bigot,  but 
a  very  hard-hearted  little  wretch,  and  I'm  glad  you're 
rid  of  him.  No,  stop  !  Let  me  go  on  !  You  said  I 


RAGGED    LADY.  235 

might ! "  she  persisted,  at  a  protest  which  imparted 
itself  from  Clementina's  restive  hands.  "  It  was  self 
ish  and  cruel  of  him  to  let  you  believe  that  he  had 
forgotten  you.  It  doesn't  make  it  right  now,  when 
an  accident  has  forced  him  to  tell  you  that  he  cared 
for  you  all  along." 

"Why,  do  you  look  at  it  that  way,  Miss  Milray  ? 
If  he  was  doing  it  on  my  account " — 

"  He  may  think  he  was  doing  it  on  your  account, 
but  /  think  he  was  doing  it  on  his  own.  In  such  a 
thing  as  that,  a  man  is  bound  by  his  mistakes,  if  he 
has  made  any.  He  can't  go  back  of  them  by  simply 
ignoring  them.  It  didn't  make  it  the  same  for  you 
when  he  decided  for  your  sake  that  he  would  act  as 
if  he  had  never  spoken  to  you." 

"  I  presume  he  thought  that  it  would  come  right, 
sometime,"  Clementina  urged.  "  I  did." 

"  Yes,  that  was  very  well  for  you,  but  it  wasn't  at 
all  well  for  him.  He  behaved  cruelly ;  there's  no  other 
word  for  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  meant  to  be  cruel,  Miss  Mil- 
ray,"  said  Clementina. 

"  You're  not  sorry  you've  broken  with  him  ?  "  de 
manded  Miss  Milray,  severely,  and  she  let  go  of  Clem 
entina's  hands. 

"  I  shouldn't  want  him  to  think  I  hadn't  been 
fai'a." 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by  not  being 
fair,"  said  Miss  Milray,  after  a  study  of  the  girl's 
eyes. 

"  I  mean,"  Clementina  explained,  "  that  if  I  let  him 


236  BAGGED    LADY. 

think  the  religion  was  all  the'e  was,  it  wouldn't  have 
been  fai'a." 

"  Why,  weren't  you  sincere  about  that  ? " 

"  Of  cou'se  I  was  ! "  returned  the  girl,  almost  indig 
nantly.  "  But  if  the'e  was  anything  else,  I  ought  to 
have  told  him  that,  too ;  and  I  couldn't." 

"  Then  you  can't  tell  me,  of  course  ?  "  Miss  Milray 
rose  in  a  little  pique. 

"  Perhaps  some  day  I  will,"  the  girl  entreated. 
"  And  perhaps  that  was  all." 

Miss  Milray  laughed.  "  Well,  if  that  was  enough 
to  end  it,  I'm  satisfied,  and  I'll  let  you  keep  your 
mystery — if  it  is  one — till  we  meet  in  Venice ;  I  shall 
be  there  early  in  June.  Good  bye,  dear,  and  say 
good  bye  to  Mrs.  Lander  for  me." 


XXVIII. 

DR.  Welwright  got  his  patient  a  lodging  on  the 
Grand  Canal  in  Venice,  and  decided  to  stay  long 
enough  to  note  the  first  effect  of  the  air  and  the  baths, 
and  to  look  up  a  doctor  to  leave  her  with. 

This  took  something  more  than  a  week,  which  could 
not  all  be  spent  in  Mrs.  Lander's  company,  much  as 
she  wished  it.  There  were  hours  which  he  gave  to 
going  about  in  a  gondola  with  Clementina,  whom  he 
forbade  to  be  always  at  the  invalid's  side.  He  tried 
to  reassure  her  as  to  Mrs.  Lander's  health,  when  he 
found  her  rather  mute  and  absent,  while  they  drifted 
in  the  silvery  sun  of  the  late  April  weather,  just  be 
ginning  to  be  warm,  but  not  warm  enough  yet  for  the 
tent  of  the  open  gondola.  He  asked  her  about  Mrs. 
Lander's  family,  and  Clementina  could  only  tell  him 
that  she  had  always  said  she  had  none.  She  told  him 
the  story  of  her  own  relation  to  her,  and  he  said, 
"Yes,  I  heard  something  of  that  from  Miss  Milray." 
After  a  moment  of  silence,  during  which  he  looked 
curiously  into  the  girl's  eyes,  "  Do  you  think  you  can 
bear  a  little  more  care,  Miss  Claxon  ?" 


238  BAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  think  I  can,"  said  Clementina,  not  very  courage 
ously,  but  patiently. 

"  It's  only  this,  and  I  wouldn't  tell  you  if  I  hadn't 
thought  you  equal  to  it.  Mrs.  Lander's  case  puzzles 
me.  But  I  shall  leave  Dr.  Tradonico  watching  it,  and 
if  it  takes  the  turn  that  there's  a  chance  it  may  take, 
he  will  tell  you,  and  you'd  better  find  out  about  her 
friends,  and — let  them  know.  That's  all." 

"Yes,"  said  Clementina,  as  if  it  were  not  quite 
enough.  Perhaps  she  did  not  fully  realize  all  that  the 
doctor  had  intended;  life  alone  is  credible  to  the 
young ;  life  and  the  expectation  of  it. 

The  night  before  he  was  to  return  to  Florence  there 
was  a  full  moon ;  and  when  he  had  got  Mrs.  Lander 
to  sleep  he  asked  Clementina  if  she  would  not  go  out 
on  the  lagoon  with  him.  He  assigned  no  peculiar 
virtue  to  the  moonlight,  and  he  had  no  new  charge  to 
give  her  concerning  his  patient  when  they  were  em 
barked.  He  seemed  to  wish  her  to  talk  about  herself, 
and  when  she  strayed  from  the  topic,  he  prompted 
her  return.  Then  he  wished  to  know  how  she  liked 
Florence,  as  compared  with  Venice,  and  all  the  other 
cities  she  had  seen,  and  when  she  said  she  had  not 
'seen  any  but  Boston  and  New  York,  and  London  for 
one  night,  he  wished  to  know  whether  she  liked  Flor 
ence  as  well.  She  said  she  liked  it  best  of  all,  and  he 
told  her  he  was  very  glad,  for  he  liked  it  himself  bet 
ter  than  any  place  he  had  ever  seen.  He  spoke  of 
his  family  in  America,  which  was  formed  of  grown 
up  brothers  and  sisters,  so  that  he  had  none  of  the 
closest  and  tenderest  ties  obliging  him  to  return  ; 


RAGGED    LADY.  239 

there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  spend  all  his 
days  in  Florence,  except  for  some  brief  visits  home. 
It  would  be  another  thing  with  such  a  place  as  Ven 
ice  ;  he  could  never  have  the  same  settled  feeling 
there :  it  was  beautiful,  but  it  was  unreal ;  it  would  be 
like  spending  one's  life  at  the  opera.  Did  not  she 
think  so  ? 

She  thought  so,  oh,  yes ;  she  never  could  have  the 
home-feeling  at  Venice  that  she  had  at  Florence. 

"  Exactly ;  that's  what  I  meant — a  home-feeling  ; 
I'm  glad  you  had  it."  He  let  the  gondola  dip  and 
slide  forward  almost  a  minute  before  he  added,  with 
an  effect  of  pulling  a  voice  up  out  of  his  throat  some 
where,  "  How  would  you  like  to  live  there — with  me 
— as  my  wife  ? " 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Dr.  Welwright?" 
asked  Clementina,  with  a  vague  laugh. 

Dr.  Welwright  laughed,  too  ;  but  not  vaguely ;  there 
was  a  mounting  cheerfulness  in  his  laugh.  "  What  I 
say.  I  hope  it  isn't  very  surprising." 

"  No ;  but  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  think  of  it  now." 

"  But  you're  not  in  ea'nest !  " 

"  I'm  thoroughly  in  earnest,"  said  the  doctor,  and 
he  seemed  very  much  amused  at  her  incredulity. 

"Then,  I'm  sorry,"  she  answered.      "I  couldn't." 

"  No  ? "  he  said,  still  with  amusement,  or  with  a 
courage  that  took  that  form.  "  Why  not  ? " 

"Because  I  am — not  free." 

For  an  interval  they  were  so  silent  that  they  could 
hear  each  other  breathe.  Then,  after  he  had  quietly 


240  RAGGED  LADY. 

bidden  the  gondolier  go  back  to  their  hotel,  he  asked, 
"  If  you  had  been  free  you  might  have  answered  me 
differently?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina,  candidly.  "  I 
never  thought  of  it." 

"  It  isn't  because  you  disliked  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  wo/" 

"  Then  I  must  get  what  comfort  I  can  out  of  that. 
I  hope,  with  all  my  heart,  that  you  may  be  happy." 

"  Why,  Dr.  Welwright !  "  said  Clementina.  "  Don't 
you  suppose  that  I  should  be  glad  to  do  it,  if  I  could  ? 
Any  one  would !  " 

"  It  doesn't  seem  very  probable,  just  now,"  he  an 
swered,  humbly.  "  But  I'll  believe  it  if  you  say  so." 

"  I  do  say  so,  and  I  always  shall." 

"  Thank  you." 

Dr.  Welwright  professed  himself  ready  for  his  de 
parture,  at  breakfast  next  morning  and  he  must  have 
made  his  preparations  very  late  or  very  early.  He 
was  explicit  in  his  charges  to  Clementina  concerning 
Mrs.  Lander,  and  at  the  end  of  them,  he  said,  "  She 
will  not  know  when  she  is  asking  too  much  of  you, 
but  you  will,  and  you  must  act  upon  your  knowledge. 
And  remember,  if  you  are  in  need  of  help,  of  any 
kind,  you're  to  let  me  know.  Will  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  will,  Dr.  Welwright." 

"  People  will  be  going  away  soon,  and  I  shall  not 
be  so  busy.  I  can  come  back  if  Dr.  Tradonico  thinks 
it  necessary." 

He  left  Mrs.  Lander  full  of  resolutions  to  look  after 
her  own  welfare  in  every  way,  and  she  went  out  in 


RAGGED    LADY.  241 

her  gondola  the  same  morning.  She  was  not  only  to 
take  the  air  as  much  as  possible,  but  she  was  to  amuse 
herself,  and  she  decided  that  she  would  have  her  sec 
ond  breakfast  at  the  Gaffe  Florian.  Venice  was  be 
ginning  to  fill  up  with  arrivals  from  the  south,  and  it 
need  not  have  been  so  surprising  to  find  Mr.  Ilinkle 
there  over  a  cup  of  coffee.  He  said  he  had  just  that 
moment  been  thinking  of  her,  and  meaning  to  look 
her  up  at  the  hotel.  He  said  that  he  had  stopped  at 
Venice  because  it  was  such  a  splendid  place  to  intro 
duce  his  gleaner ;  he  invited  Mrs.  Lander  to  become  a 
partner  in  the  enterprise ;  he  promised  her  a  return  of 
fifty  per  cent,  on  her  investment.  If  he  could  once 
introduce  his  gleaner  in  Venice,  he  should  be  a  made 
man.  He  asked  Mrs.  Lander,  with  real  feeling,  how 
she  was ;  as  for  Miss  Clementina,  he  need  not  ask. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  the  docta  thinks  she  wants  a  little 
lookin'  after,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Lander. 

"  Well,  about  as  much  as  you  do,  Mrs.  Lander," 
Hinkle  allowed,  tolerantly.  "  I  don't  know  how  it 
affects  you,  ma'am,  such  a  meeting  of  friends  in  these 
strange  waters,  but  it's  building  me  right  up.  It's 
made  another  man  of  me,  already,  and  I've  got  the 
other  man's  appetite,  too.  Mind  my  letting  him  have 
his  breakfast  here  with  me  at  your  table  ? "  He  bade 
the  waiter  just  fetch  his  plate.  He  attached  himself 
to  them ;  he  spent  the  day  with  them.  Mrs.  Lander 
asked  him  to  dinner  at  her  lodgings,  and  left  him  to 
Clementina  over  the  coffee. 

"She's    looking   fine,   doesn't   the    doctor    think? 
This  air  will  do  everything  for  her." 
P 


242  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  she's  a  great  deal  betta  than  she  was 
befo'c  we  came." 

"  That's  right.  Well,  now,  you've  got  me  here, 
you  must  let  me  make  myself  useful  any  way  I  can. 
I've  got  a  spare  month  that  I  can  put  in  here  in 
Venice,  just  as  well  as  not ;  I  sha'n't  want  to  push 
north  till  the  frost's  out  of  the  ground.  They  wouldn't 
have  a  chance  to  try  my  gleaner,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Alps  much  before  September,  anyway.  Now,  in 
Ohio,  the  part  I  come  from,  we  cut  our  wheat  in  June. 
When  is  your  wheat  harvest  at  Middlemount  ?  " 

Clementina  laughed.  "  I  don't  believe  we've  got 
any.  I  guess  it's  all  grass." 

"  I  wish  you  could  see  our  country  out  there,  once." 

"  Is  it  nice  ?  " 

"  Nice  ?  We're  right  in  the  centre  of  the  state, 
measuring  from  north  to  south,  on  the  old  National 
Road."  Clementina  had  never  heard  of  this  road, 
but  she  did  not  say  so.  "  About  five  miles  back  from 
the  Ohio  River,  where  the  coal  comes  up  out  of  the 
ground,  because  there's  so  much  of  it  there's  no  room 
for  it  below.  Our  farm's  in  a  valley,  along  a  creek 
bottom,  what  you  Yankees  call  an  intervale ;  we've 
got  three  hundred  acres.  My  grandfather  took  up 
the  land,  and  then  he  went  back  to  Pennsylvania  to 
get  the  girl  he'd  left  there — we  were  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  ;  that's  where  I  got  my  romantic  name — they 
drove  all  the  way  out  to  Ohio  again  in  his  buggy,  and 
when  he  came  in  sight  of  our  valley  with  his  bride, 
he  stood  up  in  his  buggy  and  pointed  with  his  whip. 
"  There !  As  far  as  the  sky  is  blue,  it's  all  ours! " 


RAGGED    LADY.  243 

Clementina  owned  the  charm  of  his  story  as  he 
seemed  to  expect,  but  when  he  said,  "  Yes,  I  want  you 
to  see  that  country,  some  day,"  she  answered  cau 
tiously. 

"  It  must  be  lovely.  But  I  don't  expect  to  go 
West,  eva." 

"I  like  your  Eastern  way  of  saying  everr,"  said 
Hinkle,  and  he  said  it  in  his  Western  way.  "  I  like 
New  England  folks." 

Clementina  smiled  discreetly.  "They  have  their 
faults  like  everybody  else,  I  presume." 

"  Ah,  that's  a  regular  Yankee  word :  presume,"  said 
Hinkle.  "  Our  teacher,  my  first  one,  always  said  pre 
sume.  She  was  from  your  State,  too." 


XXIX. 

IN  the  time  of  provisional  quiet  that  followed  for 
Clementina,  she  was  held  from  the  remorses  and  mis 
givings  that  had  troubled  her  before  Ilinkle  came. 
She  still  thought  that  she  had  let  Dr.  Welwright  go 
away  believing  that  she  had  not  cared  enough  for  the 
offer  which  had  surprised  her  so  much,  and  she  blamed 
herself  for  not  telling  him  how  doubly  bound  she  was 
to  Gregory ;  though  when  she  tried  to  put  her  sense 
of  this  in  words  to  herself  she  could  not  make  out 
that  she  was  any  more  bound  to  him  than  she  had 
been  before  they  met  in  Florence,  unless  she  wished 
to  be  so.  Yet  somehow  in  this  time  of  respite,  neither 
the  regret  for  Dr.  Welwright  nor  the  question  of 
Gregory  persisted  very  strongly,  and  there  were  whole 
days  when  she  realized  before  she  slept  that  she  had 
not  thought  of  either. 

She  was  in  full  favor  again  with  Mrs.  Lander,  whom 
there  was  no  one  to  embitter  in  her  jealous  affection. 
Hinlde  formed  their  whole  social  world,  and  Mrs. 
Lander  made  the  most  of  him.  She  was  always 
having  him  to  the  dinners  which  her  landlord  served 
her  from  a  restaurant  in  her  apartment,  and  taking 


RAGGED    LADY.  245 

him  out  with  Clementina  in  her  gondola.  He  came 
into  a  kind  of  authority  with  them  both  which  was  as 
involuntary  with  him  as  with  them,  and  was  like  an 
effect  of  his  constant  wish  to  be  doing  something  for 
them. 

One  morning  when  they  were  all  going  out  in  Mrs. 
Lander's  gondola,  she  sent  Clementina  back  three 
times  to  their  rooms  for  outer  garments  of  differing 
density.  When  she  brought  the  last  Mrs.  Lander 
frowned. 

"  This  won't  do.  I've  got  to  have  something  else 
— something  lighter  and  warma." 

"I  can't, go  back  any  moa,  Mrs.  Landa,"  cried  the 
girl,  from  the  exasperation  of  her  own  nerves. 

"  Then  I  will  go  back  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Lander 
with  dignity,  "  and  we  sha'n't  need  the  gondoler  any 
more  this  mo'ning,"  she  added,  "  unless  you  and  Mr. 
Hinkle  wants  to  ride." 

She  got  ponderously  out  of  the  boat  with  the  help 
of  the  gondolier's  elbow,  and  marched  into  the  house 
again,  while  Clementina  followed  her.  She  did  not 
offer  to  help  her  up  the  stairs ;  Hinkle  had  to  do  it, 
and  he  met  the  girl  slowly  coming  up  as  he  returned 
from  delivering  Mrs.  Lander  over  to  Maddalena. 

"  She's  all  right,  now,"  he  ventured  to  say,  tenta 
tively. 

"  Is  she  ? "  Clementina  coldly  answered. 

In  spite  of  her  repellant  air,  he  persisted,  "  She's  a 
pretty  sick  woman,  isn't  she  ? " 

"  The  docta  doesn't  say." 

"  Well,  I  think  it  would  be  safe  to  act  on  that  sup- 


246  RAGGED    LADY. 

position.     Miss  Clementina — I  think  she  wants  to  see 
you." 

"  I'm  going  to  her  directly." 

Hinkle  paused,  rather  daunted.  "  She  wants  me  to 
go  for  the  doctor." 

"  She's  always  wanting  the  docta."  Clementina 
lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  very  coldly  at  him. 

"  If  I  were  you  I'd  go  up  right  away,"  he  said, 
boldly. 

She  felt  that  she  ought  to  resent  his  interference, 
but  the  mild  entreaty  of  his  pale  blue  eyes,  or  the 
elder-brotherly  injunction  of  his  smile,  forbade  her. 
"  Did  she  ask  for  me  ? " 

"No." 

"  I'll  go  to  her,"  she  said,  and  she  kept  herself 
from  smiling  at  the  long  sigh  of  relief  he  gave  as  she 
passed  him  on  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Lander  began  as  soon  as  she  entered  her  room, 
"  Well,  I  was  just  wonderin'  if  you  was  goin'  to  leave 
me  here  all  day  alone,  while  you  staid  down  the'e, 
carryin'  on  with  that  simpleton.  I  don't  know  what's 
got  into  the  men." 

"  Mr.  Hinkle  has  gone  for  the  docta,"  said  Clem 
entina,  trying  to  get  into  her  voice  the  kindness  she 
was  trying  to  feel. 

"  Well,  if  I  have  one  of  my  attacks,  now,  you'll 
have  yourself  to  thank  for  it." 

By  the  time  Dr.  Tradonico  appeared  Mrs.  Lander 
was  so  much  better  that  in  her  revulsion  of  feeling 
she  was  all  day  rather  tryingly  affectionate  in  her  in 
direct  appeals  for  Clementina's  sympathy. 


RAGGED    LADY.  247 

"  I  don't  want  you  should  mind  what  I  say,  when 
I  a'n't  feelin'  just  right,"  she  began  that  evening,  after 
she  had  gone  to  bed,  and  Clementina  sat  looking  out 
of  the  open  window,  on  the  moonlit  lagoon. 

"  Oh,  no,"  the  girl  answered,  wearily. 

Mrs.  Lander  humbled  herself  farther.  "I'm  real 
sorry  I  plagued  you  so,  to-day,  and  I  know  Mr.  Hin- 
kle  thought  I  was  dreadful,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  I 
should  like  to  talk  with  you,  Clementina,  about  some 
thing  that's  worryin'  me,  if  you  a'n't  busy." 

"  I'm  not  busy,  now,  Mrs.  Lander,"  said  Clemen 
tina,  a  little  coldly,  and  relaxing  the  clasp  of  her  hands ; 
to  knit  her  fingers  together  had  been  her  sole  busi 
ness,  and  she  put  even  this  away. 

She  did  not  come  nearer  the  bed,  and  Mrs.  Lander 
was  obliged  to  speak  without  the  advantage  of  noting 
the  effect  of  her  words  upon  her  in  her  face.  "  It's 
like  this :  What  am  I  agoin'  to  do  for  them  relations 
of  Mr.  Landa's  out  in  Michigan  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     What  relations  ? " 

"  I  told  you  about  'em :  the  only  ones  he's  got :  his 
half-sista's  children.  He  neva  saw  'em,  and  he  neva 
wanted  to ;  but  they're  his  kin,  and  it  was  his  money. 
It  don't  seem  right  to  pass  'em  ova.  Do  you  think 
it  would  yourself,  Clementina  ? " 

"  Why,  of  cou'se  not,  Mrs.  Lander.  It  wouldn't 
be  right  at  all." 

Mrs.  Lander  looked  relieved,  and  she  said,  as  if  a 
little  surprised,  "  I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way;  I  should 
feel  just  so,  myself.  I  mean  to  do  by  you  just  what 
I  always  said  I  should.  I  sha'n't  forget  you,  but 


248  RAGGED    LADY. 

whc'c  the'e's  so  much  I  got  to  thinkin'  the'e'd  ought 
to  some  of  it  go  to  his  folks,  whetha  he  ca'ed  for  'em 
or  not.  It's  worried  me  some,  and  I  guess  if  anything 
it's  that  that's  made  me  wo'se  lately." 

"  Why  Mrs.  Landa,"  said  the  girl,  "  why  don't 
you  give  it  all  to  them  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  you'a  talkin'  about,"  said 
Mrs.  Lander,  severely.  "  I  guess  if  I  give  'em  five 
thousand  or  so  amongst  'em,  it's  full  moa  than  they 
eva  thought  of  havin',  and  it's  moa  than  they  got  any 
right  to.  Well,  that's  all  right,  then ;  and  we  don't 
need  to  talk  about  it  any  moa.  Yes,"  she  resumed, 
after  a  moment,  "  that's  what  I  shall  do.  I  ha'n't  eva 
felt  just  satisfied  with  that  last  will  I  got  made,  and  I 
guess  I  shall  tear  it  up,  and  get  the  fust  American 
lawyer  that  comes  along  to  make  me  a  new  one.  The 
prop'ty's  all  goin'  to  you,  but  I  guess  I  shall  leave 
five  thousand  apiece  to  the  two  families  out  the'e. 
You  won't  miss  it,  any,  and  I  presume  it's  what  Mr. 
Landa  would  expect  I  should  do;  though  why  he 
didn't  do  it  himself,  I  can't  undastand,  unless  it  was 
to  show  his  confidence  in  me." 

She  began  to  ask  Clementina  how  she  felt  about 
staying  in  Venice  all  summer ;  she  said  she  had  got 
so  much  better  there  already  that  she  believed  she 
should  be  well  by  fall  if  she  stayed  on.  She  was  cer 
tain  that  it  would  put  her  all  back  if  she  were  to  travel 
now,  and  in  Europe,  where  it  was  so  hard  to  know 
how  to  get  to  places,  she  did  not  see  how  they  could 
pick  out  any  that  would  suit  them  as  well  as  Venice 
did. 


RAGGED    LADY.  249 

Clementina  agreed  to  it  all,  more  or  less  absent- 
mindedly,  as  she  sat  looking  into  the  moonlight,  and 
the  day  that  had  begun  so  stormily  ended  in  kindness 
between  them. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Lander  did  not  wish  to  go 
out,  and  she  sent  Clementina  and  Hinkle  together  as 
a  proof  that  they  were  all  on  good  terms  again.  She 
did  not  spare  the  girl  this  explanation  in  his  presence, 
and  when  they  were  in  the  gondola  he  felt  that  he 
had  to  say,  "  I  was  afraid  you  might  think  I  was 
rather  meddlesome  yesterday." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered.     "  I  was  glad  you  did." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  "  I  thought  you  would  be  — 
afterwards."  He  looked  at  her  wistfully  with  his 
slanted  eyes  and  his  odd  twisted  smile  and  they  both 
gave  way  in  the  same  conscious  laugh.  "  AVhat  I 
like,"  he  explained  further,  "  is  to  be  understood 
when  I've  said  something  that  doesn't  mean  anything, 
don't  you  ?  You  know  anybody  can  understand  you 
if  you  really  mean  something  ;  but  most  of  the  time 
you  don't,  and  that's  when  a  friend  is  useful.  I  wish 
you'd  call  on  me  if  you're  ever  in  that  fix." 

"  Oh,  I  will,  Mr.  Hinkle,"  Clementina  promised, 


"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  and  her  gayety  seemed  to 
turn  him  graver.  "  Miss  Clementina,  might  I  go  a 
little  further  in  this  direction,  without  danger  ?  " 

"  What  direction  ?  "  she  added,  with  a  flush  of  sud 
den  alarm. 

"  Mrs.  Lander." 

"  Why,  suttainly  !  "  she  answered,  in  quick  relief. 


250  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  do  some  of   the  worrying 
about    her   for  you,  while  I'm  here.      You  know 
haven't  got  anything  else  to  do  !  " 

"Why,  I  don't  believe  I  worry  much.     I'm  afralH 
I  fo'get  about  her  when  I'm  not  with  her.     ThaJ 
the  wo'st  of  it." 

"  No,  no,"  he  entreated,  "  that's  the  best  of  it.  I 
I  want  to  do  the  worrying  for  you  even  when  yoi' 
with  her.  Will  you  let  me?  "  >• 

"  Why,  if  you  want  to  so  very  much." 

"  Then  it's  settled,"  he  said,  dismissing  the  sub; 

But  she  recurred  to  it  with  a  lingering  compunct 
"  I  presume  that  I  don't  remember  how  sick  si 
because  I've  neva  been  sick  at  all,  myself." 

"Well,"  he  returned,  "you  needn't  be  sorry 
that  altogether.     There  are  worse  things  than  b , 
well,  though  sick  people  don't  always  think  so.    u  ^  e 
wasted  a  good  deal  of  time  the  other  way,  though  i^'\  j 
reformed,  now."  r« 

They  went  on  to  talk  about  themselves;  sometnnes 
they  talked  about  others,  in  excursions  which  oVtre 
more  or  less  perfunctory,  and  were  merely  in  the  y.  ,y 
of  illustration  or  instance.  She  got  so  far  in  one  of 
these  as  to  speak  of  her  family,  and  he  seemed  to 
understand  them.  He  asked  about  them  all,  and  he 
said  he  believed  in  her  father's  unworldly  theory  of 
life.  He  asked  her  if  they  thought  at  home  that  she 
was  like  her  father,  and  he  added,  as  if  it  followed, 
"  I'm  the  worldling  of  my  family.  I  was  the  young 
est  child,  and  the  only  boy  in  a  flock  of  girls.  That 
always  spoils  a  boy." 


RAGGED    LADY.  251 

v  "  Are  you  spoiled  ? "  she  asked. 

"Well,  I'm  afraid  they'd  be  surprised  if  I  didn't 
,ome  to  grief  somehow — all  but  mother;  she  expects 
be  kept  from  harm." 

*  Is  she  religious  ? " 

Yes,  she's  a  Moravian.      Did  you  ever  hear  of 
m  ?  "       Clementina  shook  her  head.        "  They're 
ething  like  the  Quakers,  and  something  like  the 
hodists.       They  don't  believe  in  war;   but  they 
bishops." 
jA.nd  do  you  belong  to  her  church  ?  " 

•  iNo,"  said  the  young  man.     "I  wish  I  did,  for 
•iake.     I  don't  belong  to  any.     Do  you  ? " 

No,  I  go  to  the  Episcopal,  at  home.     Perhaps  I 

belong  sometime.    But  I  think  that  is  something 

,,one  must  do  for  themselves."    He  looked  a  little 

ah      ed  at  the  note  of  severity  in  her  voice,  and  she 

e.  f-^ined.     "  I  mean  that  if  you  try  to  be  religious 

f r  •    nything  besides  religion,  it  isn't  being  religious ; 

— a?  1  no  one  else  has  any  right  to  ask  you  to  be." 

•f  *  >h,  that's  what  I  believe,  too,"  he  said,  with 
co.;ac  relief.  "  I  didn't  know  but  I'd  been  trying  to 
convert  you  without  knowing  it."  They  both  laughed, 
and  were  then  rather  seriously  silent. 

He  asked,  after  a  moment,  in  a  fresh  beginning, 
"  Have  you  heard  from  Miss  Milray  since  you  left 
Florence?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  didn't  I  tell  you  ?  She's  coming  here  in 
June." 

"  Well,  she  won't  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me, 
then.  I'm  going  the  last  of  May." 


252  KAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  stay  a  month !  "  she 
protested. 

"  That  will  be  a  month ;  and  more,  too." 

"  So  it  will,"  she  owned. 

"  I'm  glad  it  doesn't  seem  any  longer — say  a  year — 
Miss  Clementina !  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  she  returned.  "  Miss  Milray's 
brother  and  his  wife  are  coming  with  her.  They've 
been  in  Egypt." 

"  I  never  saw  them,"  said  Hinkle.  He  paused,  be 
fore  he  added,  "  Well,  it  would  seem  rather  crowded 
after  they  get  here,  I  suppose,"  and  he  laughed,  while 
Clementina  said  nothing. 


XXX. 

HINKLE  came  every  morning  now,  to  smoothe  out 
the  doubts  and  difficulties  that  had  accumulated  in 
Mrs.  Lander's  inind  over  night,  and  incidentally  to 
propose  some  pleasure  for  Clementina,  who  could  feel 
that  he  was  pitying  her  in  her  slavery  to  the  sick 
woman's  whims,  and  yet  somehow  entreating  her  to 
bear  them.  He  saw  them  together  in  what  Mrs.  Lan 
der  called  her  well  days ;  but  there  were  other  days 
when  he  saw  Clementina  alone,  and  then  she  brought 
him  word  from  Mrs.  Lander,  and  reported  his  talk  to 
her  after  he  went  away.  On  one  of  these  she  sent 
him  a  cheerfuller  message  than  usual,  and  charged 
the  girl  to  explain  that  she  was  ever  so  much  better, 
but  had  not  got  up  because  she  felt  that  every  minute 
in  bed  was  doing  her  good.  Clementina  carried  back 
his  regrets  and  congratulation,  and  then  told  Mrs. 
Lander  that  he  had  asked  her  to  go  out  with  him  to 
see  a  church,  which  he  was  sorry  Mrs.  Lander  could 
not  see  too.  He  professed  to  be  very  particular  about 
his  churches,  for  he  said  he  had  noticed  that  they 
neither  of  them  had  any  great  gift  for  sights,  and  he 
had  it  on  his  conscience  to  get  the  best  for  them.  He 


254  RAGGED    LADY. 

told  Clementina  that  the  church  he  had  for  them  now 
could  not  be  better  if  it  had  been  built  expressly  for 
them,  instead  of  having  been  used  as  a  place  of  wor 
ship  for  eight  or  ten  generations  of  Venetians  before 
they  came.  She  gave  his  invitation  to  Mrs.  Lander, 
who  could  not  always  be  trusted  with  his  jokes,  and 
she  received  it  in  the  best  part. 

"  Well,  you  go  !  "  she  said.  "  Maddalena  can  look 
after  me,  I  guess.  He's  the  only  one  of  the  fellas, 
except  that  lo'd,  that  I'd  give  a  cent  for."  She  added, 
with  a  sudden  lapse  from  her  pleasure  in  Hinkle  to 
her  severity  with  Clementina,  "  But  you  want  to  be 
ca'eful  what  you'  doin'." 

"Ca'eful?" 

"Yes  !  About  Mr.  Hinkle.  I  a'n't  agoin'  to  have 
you  lead  him  on,  and  then  say  you  didn't  know  where 
he  was  goin'.  I  can't  keep  runnin'  away  everywhe'e, 
fo'  you,  the  way  I  done  at  Woodlake." 

Clementina's  heart  gave  a  leap,  whether  joyful  or 
woeful ;  but  she  answered  indignantly,  "  How  can  you 
say  such  a  thing  to  me,  Mrs.  Lander.  I'm  not  lead 
ing  him  on ! " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  call  it.  You're  round 
with  him  in  the  gondoler,  night  and  day,  and  when 
he's  he'e,  you'a  settin'  with  him  half  the  time  on  the 
balcony,  and  it's  talk,  talk,  the  whole  while."  Clem 
entina  took  in  the  fact  with  silent  recognition,  and 
Mrs.  Lander  went  on.  "  I  ain't  sayin'  anything 
against  it.  He's  the  only  one  I  don't  believe  is  afta 
the  money  he  thinks  you'a  goin'  to  have ;  but  if  you 
don't  want  him,  you  want  to  look  what  you're  about." 


RAGGED    LADY.  255 

The  girl  returned  to  Hinkle  in  the  embarrassment 
which  she  was  helpless  to  hide,  and  without  the  excuse 
which  she  could  not  invent  for  refusing  to  go  with 
him.  "Is  Mrs.  Lander  worse — or  anything?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  no.  She's  quite  well,"  said  Clementina;  but 
she  left  it  for  him  to  break  the  constraint  in  which 
they  set  out.  He  tried  to  do  so  at  different  points, 
but  it  seemed  to  close  upon  them  the  more  inflexibly. 
At  last  he  asked,  as  they  were  drawing  near  the 
church,  "  Have  you  ever  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Belsky 
since  you  left  Florence  ? " 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  a  nervous  start.  "  What 
makes  you  ask  ? " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  you  see  nearly  everybody 
again  that  you  meet  in  your  travels.  That  friend  of 
his — that  Mr.  Gregory — he  seems  to  have  dropped 
out,  too.  I  believe  you  told  me  you  used  to  know 
him  in  America." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  briefly;  she  could  not  say 
more ;  and  Hinkle  went  on.  "  It  seemed  to  me,  that 
as  far  as  I  could  make  him  out,  he  was  about  as  much 
of  a  crank  in  his  way  as  the  Russian.  It's  curious, 
but  when  you  were  talking  about  religion,  the  other 
day,  you  made  me  think  of  him  !  "  The  blood  went 
to  Clementina's  heart.  "I  don't  suppose  you  had 
him  in  mind,  but  what  you  said  fitted  him  more  than 
anyone  I  know  of.  I  could  have  almost  believed  that 
he  had  been  trying  to  convert  you  !  "  She  stared  at 
him,  and  he  laughed.  "  He  tackled  me  one  day  there 
in  Florence  all  of  a  sudden,  and  I  didn't  know  what 


256  RAGGED    LADY. 

to  say,  exactly.  Of  course,  I  respected  his  earnest 
ness  ;  but  I  couldn't  accept  his  view  of  things  and  I 
tried  to  tell  him  so.  I  had  to  say  just  where  I  stood, 
and  why,  and  I  mentioned  some  books  that  helped  to 
get  me  there.  He  said  he  never  read  anything  that 
went  counter  to  his  faith ;  and  I  saw  that  he  didn't 
want  to  save  me,  so  much  as  he  wanted  to  convince 
me.  He  didn't  know  it,  and  I  didn't  tell  him  that  I 
knew  it,  but  I  got  him  to  let  me  drop  the  subject. 
He  seems  to  have  been  left  over  from  a  time  when 
people  didn't  reason  about  their  beliefs,  but  only 
argued.  I  didn't  think  there  was  a  man  like  that  to 
be  found  so  late  in  the  century,  especially  a  young 
man.  But  that  was  just  where  I  was  mistaken.  If 
there  was  to  be  a  man  of  that  kind  at  all,  it  would 
have  to  be  a  young  one.  He'll  be  a  good  deal  open 
er-minded  when  he's  older.  He  was  conscientious ;  I 
could  see  that ;  and  he  did  take  the  Russian's  death, 
to  heart  as  long  as  he  ivas  dead.  But  I'd  like  to  talk 
with  him  ten  years  from  now ;  he  wouldn't  be  where 
he  is." 

Clementina  was  still  silent,  and  she  walked  up  the 
church  steps  from  the  gondola  without  the  power  to 
speak.  She  made  no  show  of  interest  in  the  pictures 
and  statues ;  she  never  had  really  cared  much  for  such 
things,  and  now  his  attempts  to  make  her  look  at 
them  failed  miserably.  When  they  got  back  again 
into  the  boat  he  began,  "  Miss  Clementina,  I'm  afraid 
I  oughtn't  to  have  spoken  as  I  did  of  that  Mr.  Greg 
ory.  If  he  is  a  friend  of  yours  " — 

"  He  is,"  she  made  herself  answer. 


BAGGED    LADY.  257 

"  I  didn't  mean  anything  against  him.  I  hope  you 
don't  think  I  wanted  to  be  unfair  ? " 

"  You  were  not  unfair.  But  I  oughtn't  to  have  let 
you  say  it,  Mr.  Hinkle.  I  want  to  tell  you  something 
— I  mean,  I  must" —  She  found  herself  panting  and 
breathless.  "  You  ought  to  know  it —  Mr.  Gregory 
is —  I  mean  we  are  " — 

She  stopped  and  she  saw  that  she  need  not  say 
more. 

In  the  days  that  followed  before  the  time  that 
Hinkle  had  fixed  to  leave  Venice,  he  tried  to  come  as 
he  had  been  coming,  to  see  Mrs.  Lander,  but  he 
evaded  her  when  she  wished  to  send  him  out  with 
Clementina.  His  quaintness  had  a  heartache  in  it  for 
her ;  and  he  was  boyishly  simple  in  his  failure  to  hide 
his  suffering.  He  had  no  explicit  right  to  suffer,  for 
he  had  asked  nothing  and  been  denied  nothing,  but 
perhaps  for  this  reason  she  suffered  the  more  keenly 
for  him. 

A  senseless  resentment  against  Gregory  for  spoiling 
their  happiness  crept  into  her  heart ;  and  she  wished 
to  show  Hinkle  how  much  she  valued  his  friendship 
at  any  risk  and  any  cost.  When  this  led  her  too  far 
she  took  herself  to  task  with  a  severity  which  hurt 
him  too.  In  the  midst  of  the  impulses  on  which  she 
acted,  there  were  times  when  she  had  a  confused 
longing  to  appeal  to  him  for  counsel  as  to  how  she 
ought  to  behave  toward  him. 

There  was  no  one  else  whom  she  could  appeal  to. 
Mrs.  Lander,  after  her  first  warning,  had  not  spoken 
of  him  again,  though  Clementina  could  feel  in  the 

Q 


258  RAGGED    LADY. 

grimness  with  which  she  regarded  her  variable  treat 
ment  of  him  that  she  was  silently  hoarding  up  a  sum 
of  inculpation  which  would  crush  her  under  its  weight 
when  it  should  fall  upon  her.  She  seemed  to  be 
growing  constantly  better,  now,  and  as  the  interval 
since  her  last  attack  widened  behind  her,  she  began 
to  indulge  her  appetite  with  a  recklessness  which 
Clementina,  in  a  sense  of  her  own  unworthiness,  was 
helpless  to  deal  with.  When  she  ventured  to  ask  her 
once  whether  she  ought  to  eat  of  something  that  was 
very  unwholesome  for  her,  Mrs.  Lander  answered  that 
she  had  taken  her  case  into  her  own  hands,  now,  for 
she  knew  more  about  it  than  all  the  doctors.  She 
would  thank  Clementina  not  to  bother  about  her ;  she 
added  that  she  was  at  least  not  hurting  anybody  but 
herself,  and  she  hoped  Clementina  would  always  be 
able  to  say  as  much. 

Clementina  wished  that  Hinkle  would  go  away,  but 
not  before  she  had  righted  herself  with  him,  and  he 
lingered  his  month  out,  and  seemed  as  little  able  to  go 
as  she  to  let  him.  She  had  often  to  be  cheerful  for 
both,  when  she  found  it  too  much  to  be  cheerful  for 
herself.  In  his  absense  she  feigned  free  and  open 
talks  with  him,  and  explained  everything,  and  experi 
enced  a  kind  of  ghostly  comfort  in  his  imagined  ap 
proval  and  forgiveness,  but  in  his  presence,  nothing 
really  happened  except  the  alternation  of  her  kindness 
and  unkindness,  in  which  she  was  too  kind  and  then 
too  unkind. 

The  morning  of  the  day  he  was  at  last  to  leave 
Venice,  he  came  to  say  good  bye.  He  did  not  ask 


RAGGED    LADY.  259 

for  Mrs.  Lander,  when  the  girl  received  him,  and  he 
did  not  give  himself  time  to  lose  courage  before  he 
began,  "  Miss  Clementina,  I  don't  know  whether  I 
ought  to  speak  to  you  after  what  I  understood  you  to 
mean  about  Mr.  Gregory."  He  looked  steadfastly  at 
her  but  she  did  not  answer,  and  he  went  on.  "  There's 
just  one  chance  in  a  million,  though,  that  I  didn't  un 
derstand  you  rightly,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  want  to  take  that  chance.  May  I  ?  "  She  tried  to 
speak,  but  she  could  not.  "  If  I  was  wrong — if  there 
was  nothing  between  you  and  him — could  there  ever 
be  anything  beween  you  and  me  ? " 

His  pleading  looks  entreated  her  even  more  than 
his  words. 

"  There  was  something,"  she  answered,  "  with  him.1' 

"  And  I  mustn't  know  what,"  the  young  man  said 
patiently. 

"Yes — yes!"  she  returned  eagerly.  "Oh,  yes! 
I  want  you  to  know — I  want  to  tell  you.  I  was  only 
sixteen  yea's  old,  and  he  said  that  he  oughtn't  to 
have  spoken ;  we  were  both  too  young.  But  last 
winta  he  spoke  again.  He  said  that  he  had  always 
felt  bound  "-  She  stopped,  and  he  got  infirmly  to 
his  feet.  "  1  wanted  to  tell  you  from  the  fust,  but  "- 

"  How  could  you  ?  You  couldn't.  I  haven't  any 
thing  more  to  say,  if  you  are  bound  to  him." 

"  He  is  going  to  be  a  missionary  and  he  wanted  me 
to  say  that  I  would  believe  just  as  he  did;  and  I 
couldn't.  But  I  thought  that  it  would  come  right ; 
and — yes,  I  felt  bound  to  him,  too.  That  is  all — I 
can't  explain  it !  " 


260  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Oh,  I  understand  !  "  he  returned,  listlessly. 
"  And  do  you  blame  me  for  not  telling  before  ? " 
She  made  an  involuntary  movement    toward  him,  a 
pathetic  gesture  which  both  entreated  and  compas 
sionated. 

"  There's  nobody  to  blame.  You  have  tried  to  do 
just  right  by  me,  as  well  as  him.  Well,  I've  got  my 
answer.  Mrs.  Lander — can  I "- — 

"  Why,  she  isn't  up  yet,  Mr.  Hinkle."  Clementina 
put  all  her  pain  for  him  into  the  expression  of  their 
regret. 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  leave  my  good-bye  for  her  with 
you.  I  don't  believe  I  can  come  back  again."  He 
looked  round  as  if  he  were  dizzy.  "  Good-bye,"  he 
said,  and  offered  his  hand.  It  was  cold  as  clay. 

When  he  was  gone,  Clementina  went  into  Mrs. 
Lander's  room,  and  gave  her  his  message. 

"  Couldn't  he  have  come  back  this  aftanoon  to  see 
me,  if  he  ain't  goin'  till  five  ?  "  she  demanded  jealously. 
"  He  said  he  couldn't  come  back,"  Clementina  an 
swered  sadly. 

The  woman  turned  her  head  on  her  pillow  and 
looked  at  the  girl's  face.  "  Oh  ! "  she  said  for  all 
comment. 


XXXI. 

THE  Milrays  came  a  month  later,  to  seek  a  milder 
sun  than  they  had  left  burning  in  Florence.  The 
husband  and  wife  had  been  sojourning  there  since 
their  arrival  from  Egypt,  but  they  had  not  been  his 
sister's  guests,  and  she  did  not  now  pretend  to  be  of 
their  party,  though  the  same  train,  even  the  same  car 
riage,  had  brought  her  to  Venice  with  them.  They 
went  to  a  hotel,  and  Miss  Milray  took  lodgings  where 
she  always  spent  her  Junes,  before  going  to  the  Tyrol 
for  the  summer. 

"  You  are  wonderfully  improved,  every  way,"  Mrs. 
Milray  said  to  Clementina  when  they  met.  "  I  knew 
you  would  be,  if  Miss  Milray  took  you  in  hand ;  and 
I  can  see  she  has.  What  she  doesn't  know  about  the 
world  isn't  worth  knowing !  I  hope  she  hasn't  made 
you  too  worldly  ?  But  if  she  has,  she's  taught  you 
how  to  keep  from  showing  it ;  you're  just  as  innocent- 
looking  as  ever,  and  that's  the  main  thing ;  you 
oughtn't  to  lose  that.  You  wouldn't  dance  a  skirt 
dance  now  before  a  ship's  company,  but  if  you  did, 
no  one  would  suspect  that  you  knew  any  better. 
Have  you  forgiven  me,  yet  ?  "Well,  I  didn't  use  you 


262  RAGGED    LADY. 

very  well,  Clementina,  and  I  never  pretended  I  did. 
I've  eaten  a  lot  of  humble  pie  for  that,  my  dear.  Did 
Miss  Milray  tell  you  that  I  wrote  to  her  about  it  ? 
Of  course  you  won't  say  how  she  told  you ;  but  she 
ought  to  have  done  me  the  justice  to  say  that  I  tried 
to  be  a  friend  at  court  with  her  for  you.  If  she  didn't, 
she  wasn't  fair." 

"  She  neva  said  anything  against  you,  Mrs.  Milray," 
Clementina  answered. 

"  Discreet  as  ever,  my  dear !  I  understand  !  And 
I  hope  you  understand  about  that  old  affair,  too,  by 
this  time.  It  was  a  complication.  I  had  to  get  back 
at  Lioncourt  somehow;  and  I  don't  honestly  think 
now  that  his  admiration  for  a  young  girl  was  a  very 
wholesome  thing  for  her.  But  never  mind.  You  had 
that  Boston  goose  in  Florence,  too,  last  winter,  and  I 
suppose  he  gobbled  up  what  little  Miss  Milray  had 
left  of  me.  But  she's  charming.  I  could  go  down 
on  my  knees  to  her  art  when  she  really  tries  to  finish 
any  one." 

Clementina  noticed  that  Mrs.  Milray  had  got  a  new 
way  of  talking.  She  had  a  chirpiness,  and  a  lift  in 
her  inflections,  which  if  it  was  not  exactly  English 
was  no  longer  Western  American.  Clementina  her 
self  in  her  association  with  Hinkle  had  worn  off  her 
English  rhythm,  and  in  her  long  confinement  to  the 
conversation  of  Mrs.  Lander,  she  had  reverted  to  her 
clipped  Yankee  accent.  Mrs.  Milray  professed  to  like 
it,  and  said  it  brought  back  so  delightfully  those 
pleasant  days  at  Middlemount,  when  Clementina  really 
was  a  child.  "  I  met  somebody  at  Cairo,  who  seemed 


RAGGED    LADY.  263 

very  glad  to  hear  about  you,  though  he  tried  to  seem 
not.  Can  you  guess  who  it  was?  I  see  that  you 
never  could,  in  the  world  !  We  got  quite  chummy 
one  day,  when  we  were  going  out  to  the  pyramids  to 
gether,  and  he  gave  himself  away,  finely.  He's  a 
simple  soul !  But  when  they're  in  love  they're  all  so  ! 
It  was  a  little  queer,  colloguing  with  the  ex-headwaiter 
on  society  terms ;  but  the  headwaitership  was  merely 
an  episode,  and  the  main  thing  is  that  he  is  very  tal 
ented,  and  is  going  to  be  a  minister.  It's  a  pity  he's 
so  devoted  to  his  crazy  missionary  scheme.  Some 
one  ought  to  get  hold  of  him,  and  point  him  in  the 
direction  of  a  rich  New  York  congregation.  '  He'd 
find  heathen  enough  among  them,  and  he  could  do  the 
greatest  amount  of  good  with  their  money;  I  tried  to 
talk  it  into  him.  I  suppose  you  saw  him  in  Florence, 
this  spring  ? "  she  suddenly  asked. 

"  Yes,"  Clementina  answered  briefly. 

"  And  you  didn't  make  it  up  together.  I  got  that 
much  out  of  Miss  Milray.  Well,  if  he  were  here,  I 
should  find  out  ivhy.  But  I  don't  suppose  you  would" 
tell  me."  She  waited  a  moment  to  see  if  Clementina 
would,  and  then  she  said,  "It's  a  pity,  for  I've  a 
notion  I  could  help  you,  and  I  think  I  owe  you  a 
good  turn,  for  the  way  I  behaved  about  your  dance. 
But  if  you  don't  want  my  help,  you  don't." 

"  I  would  say  so  if  I  did,  Mrs.  Milray,"  said  Clem 
entina.  "  I  was  hu't,  at  the  time  ;  but  I  don't  care 
anything  for  it,  now.  I  hope  you  won't  think  about 
it  any  more." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Milray,  "I'll  try  not  to," 


264  RAGGED    LADY. 

and  she  laughed.  "  But  I  should  like  to  do  some 
thing  to  prove  my  repentance." 

Clementina  perceived  that  for  some  reason  she 
would  rather  have  more  than  less  cause  for  regret  • 
and  that  she  was  mocking  her;  but  she  was  without 
the  wish  or  the  power  to  retaliate,  and  she  did  not 
try  to  fathom  Mrs.  Milray's  motives.  Most  motives 
in  life,  even  bad  motives,  lie  nearer  the  surface  than 
most  people  commonly  pretend,  and  she  might  not 
have  had  to  dig  deeper  into  Mrs.  Milray's  nature  for 
hers  than  that  layer  of  her  consciousness  where  she 
was  aware  that  Clementina  was  a  pet  of  her  sister-in- 
law.  For  no  better  reason  she  herself  made  a  pet  of 
Mrs.  Lander,  whose  dislike  of  Miss  Milray  was  not 
hard  to  divine,  and  whose  willingness  to  punish  her 
through  Clementina  was  akin  to  her  own.  The  sick 
woman  was  easily  flattered  back  into  her  first  belief 
in  Mrs.  Milray  and  accepted  her  large  civilities  and 
small  services  as  proof  of  her  virtues.  She  began  to 
talk  them  into  Clementina,  and  to  contrast  them  with 
the  wicked  principles  and  actions  of  Miss  Milray. 

The  girl  had  forgiven  Mrs.  Milray,  but  she  could 
not  go  back  to  any  trust  in  her ;  and  she  could  only 
passively  assent  to  her  praise.  When  Mrs.  Lander 
pressed  her  for  anything  more  explicit  she  said  what 
she  thought,  and  then  Mrs.  Lander  accused  her  of 
hating  Mrs.  Milray,  who  was  more  her  friend  than 
some  that  flattered  her  up  for  everything,  and  tried  to 
make  a  fool  of  her. 

"  I  undastand  now,"  she  said  one  day,  "  what  that 
recta  meant  by  wantin'  me  to  make  life  ha'd  for  you ; 


RAGGED    LADY.  265 

he  saw  how  easy  you  was  to  spoil.  Miss  Milray  is 
one  to  praise  you  to  your  face,  and  disgrace  you  be 
hind  your  back,  and  so  I  tell  you.  When  Mrs.  Milray 
thought  you  done  wrong  she  come  and  said  so ;  and 
you  can't  forgive  her.'1 

Clementina  did  not  answer.  She  had  mastered  the 
art  of  reticence  in  her  relations  with  Mrs.  Lander,  and 
even  when  Miss  Milray  tempted  her  one  day  to  give 
way,  she  still  had  strength  to  resist.  But  she  could 
not  deny  that  Mrs.  Lander  did  things  at  times  to 
worry  her,  though  she  ended  compassionately  with 
the  reflection :  "  She's  sick." 

"  I  don't  think  she's  very  sick,  now,"  retorted  her 
friend. 

"  No ;  that's  the  reason  she's  so  worrying.  When 
she's  really  sick,  she's  betta." 

"  Because  she's  frightened,  I  suppose.  And  how 
long  do  you  propose  to  stand  it  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  Clementina  listlessly  answered. 
"  She  couldn't  get  along  without  me.  I  guess  I  can 
stand  it  till  we  go  home ;  she  says  she  is  going  home 
in  the  fall." 

Miss  Milray  sat  looking  at  the  girl  a  moment. 
"  Shall  you  be  glad  to  go  home  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed  !  " 

"  To  that  place  in  the  woods  ? " 

"  Why,  yes  !     What  makes  you  ask  ? " 

"  Nothing.  But  Clementina,  sometimes  I  think 
you  don't  quite  understand  yourself.  Don't  you  know 
that  you  are  very  pretty  and  very  charming?  I've 
told  you  that  often  enough  !  But  shouldn't  you  like 


266  RAGGED    LADY. 

to  be  a  great  success  in  the  world  ?  Haven't  you  ever 
thought  of  that  ?  Don't  you  care  for  society  ?  " 

The  girl  sighed.  "  Yes,  I  think  that's  all  very  nice 
I  did  ca'e,  one  while,  there  in  Florence,  last  winter ! " 

"  My  dear,  you  don't  know  how  much  you  were 
admired.  I  used  to  tell  you,  because  I  saw  there  was 
no  spoiling  you ;  but  I  never  told  you  half.  If  you 
had  only  had  the  time  for  it  you  could  have  been  the 
greatest  sort  of  success ;  you  were  formed  for  it.  It 
wasn't  your  beauty  alone ;  lots  of  pretty  girls  don't 
make  anything  of  their  beauty  ;  it  was  your  tempera 
ment.  You  took  things  easily  and  naturally,  and 
that's  what  the  world  likes.  It  doesn't  like  your  be 
ing  afraid  of  it,  and  you  were  not  afraid,  and  you 
were  not  bold ;  you  were  just  right."  Miss  Milray 
grew  more  and  more  exhaustive  in  her  analysis,  and 
enjoyed  refining  upon  it.  "  All  that  you  needed  was 
a  little  hard-heartedness,  and  that  would  have  come 
in  time ;  you  would  have  learned  how  to  hold  your 
own,  but  the  chance  was  snatched  from  you  by  that 
old  cat !  I  could  weep  over  you  when  I  think  how 
you  have  been  wasted  on  her, and  now  you're  actually 
willing  to  go  back  and  lose  yourself  in  the  woods  ! " 

"  I  shouldn't  call  it  being  lost,  Miss  Milray." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,  and  you  must  excuse  me,  my 
dear.  But  surely  your  people — your  father  and 
mother — would  want  to  have  you  get  on  in  the  world 
— to  make  a  brilliant  match  "- 

Clementina  smiled  to  think  how  far  such  a  thing 
was  from  their  imaginations.  "  I  don't  believe  they 
would  ca'e.  You  don't  undastand  about  them,  and  I 


RAGGED    LADY.  267 

couldn't  make  you.  Fatha  neva  liked  the  notion  of 
my  being  with  such  a  rich  woman  as  Mrs.  Lander, 
because  it  would  look  as  if  we  wanted  her  money." 

"  I  never  could  have  imagined  that  of  you,  Clemen 
tina  !  " 

"  I  didn't  think  you  could,"  said  the  girl  gratefully. 
"  But  now,  if  I  left  her  when  she  was  sick  and  de 
pended  on  me,  it  would  look  wohse,  yet — as  if  I  did 
it  because  she  was  going  to  give  her  money  to  Mr. 
Landa's  family.  She  wants  to  do  that,  and  I  told  her 
to ;  I  think  that  would  be  right ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  right  for  you,  Clementina,  if  you 
preferred  it — and  /  should  prefer  it.  But  it  wouldn't 
be  right  for  her.  She  has  given  you  hopes — she  has 
made  promises — she  has  talked  to  everybody/1 

"  I  don't  ca'e  for  that.  I  shouldn't  like  to  feel  be 
holden  to  any  one,  and  I  think  it  really  belongs  to  his 
relations;  it  was  his.n 

Miss  Milray  did  not  say  anything  to  this.  She 
asked,  "  And  if  you  went  back,  what  would  you  do 
there  ?  Labor  in  the  fields,  as  poor  little  Belsky  ad 
vised  ? " 

Clementina  laughed.  "No;  but  I  expect  you'll 
think  it's  almost  as  crazy.  You  know  how  much  I 
like  dancing?  "Well,  I  think  I  could  give  dancing 
lessons  at  the  Middlemount.  There  are  always  a  good 
many  children,  and  girls  that  have  not  grown  up,  and 
I  guess  I  could  get  pupils  enough,  as  long  as  the 
summa  lasted ;  and  come  winter,  I'm  not  afraid  but 
what  I  could  get  them  among  the  young  folks  at  the 
Center.  I  used  to  teach  them  before  I  left  home." 


268  RAGGED    LADY. 

Miss  Milray  sat  looking  at  her.  "  I  don't  know 
about  such  things ;  but  it  sounds  sensible — like  every 
thing  about  you,  my  dear.  It  sounds  queer,  perhaps 
because  you're  talking  of  such  a  White  Mountain 
scheme  here  in  Venice." 

"  Yes,  don't  it  ? "  said  Clementina  sympathetically. 
"  I  was  thinking  of  that,  myself.  But  I  know  I  could 
do  it.  I  could  go  round  to  different  hotels,  different 
days.  Yes,  I  should  like  to  go  home,  and  they  would 
be  glad  to  have  me.  You  can't  think  how  pleasantly 
we  live ;  and  we're  company  enough  for  each  other.  I 
presume  I  should  miss  the  things  I've  got  used  to  ova 
here,  at  fust ;  but  I  don't  believe  I  should  care  a  great 
while.  I  don't  deny  but  what  the  wo'ld  is  nice ;  but 
you  have  to  pay  for  it ;  I  don't  mean  that  you  would 
make  me  " — 

"  No,  no  !  We  understand  each  other.  Go  on  !  " 
Miss  Milray  leaned  towards  her  and  pressed  the  girl's 
arm  reassuringly. 

As  often  happens  with  people  when  they  are  told 
to  go  on,  Clementina  found  that  she  had  not  much 
more  to  say.  "  I  think  I  could  get  along  in  the 
wo'ld,  well  enough.  Yes,  I  believe  I  could  do  it. 
But  I  wasn't  bohn  to  it,  and  it  would  be  a  great  deal 
of  trouble — a  great  deal  moa  than  if  I  had  been  bohn 
to  it.  I  think  it  would  be  too  much  trouble.  I  would 
rather  give  it  up  and  go  home,  when  Mrs.  Landa  wants 
to  go  back." 

Miss  Milray  did  not  speak  for  a  time.  "  I  know 
that  you  are  serious,  Clementina ;  and  you're  wise 
always,  and  good  " — 


BAGGED    LADY.  269 

"  It  isn't  that,  exactly,"  said  Clementina.  "  But  is 
it — I  don't  know  how  to  express  it  very  well — is  it 
wo'th  while  ?  " 

Miss  Milray  looked  at  her  as  if  she  doubted  the 
girl's  sincerity.  Even  when  the  world,  in  return  for 
our  making  it  our  whole  life,  disappoints  and  defeats 
us  with  its  prizes,  we  still  question  the  truth  of  those 
who  question  the  value  of  these  prizes ;  we  think  they 
must  be  hopeless  of  them,  or  must  be  governed  by 
some  interest  momentarily  superior. 

Clementina  pursued,  "  I  know  that  you  have  had 
all  you  wanted  of  the  wo'ld" — 

"  Oh,  no !  "  the  woman  broke  out,  almost  in  an 
guish.  "  Not  what  I  wanted!  What  I  tried  for.  It 
never  gave  me  what  I  wanted.  It  couldn't !  " 

"Well?" 

"  It  isn't  worth  while  in  that  sense.  But  if  you 
can't  have  what  you  want, — if  there's  been  a  hollow 
left  in  your  life — why  the  world  goes  a  great  way 
towards  filling  up  the  aching  void."  The  tone  of  the 
last  words  was  lighter  than  their  meaning,  but  Clem 
entina  weighed  them  aright. 

"  Miss  Milray,"  she  said,  pinching  the  edge  of  the 
table  by  which  she  sat,  a  little  nervously,  and  hanging 
her  head  a  little,  "  I  think  I  can  have  what  I  want." 

"  Then,  give  the  whole  world  for  it,  child ! " 

"  There  is  something  I  should  like  to  tell  you." 

"  Yes ! " 

"  For  you  to  advise  me  about." 

"  I  will,  my  dear,  gladly  and  truly  !  " 

"  He  was  here  before  you  came.     He  asked  me  " — 


270  KAGGED    LADY. 

Miss  Milray  gave  a  start  of  alarm.  She  said,  to 
gain  time :  "  How  did  he  get  here  ?  I  supposed  he 
was  in  Germany  with  his  " — 

"  No ;  he  was  here  the  whole  of  May  " 

"  Mr.  Gregory  ! " 

"  Mr.  Gregory  ?  "  Clementina's  face  flushed  and 
drooped  still  lower.  "  I  meant  Mr.  Hinkle.  But  if 
you  think  I  oughtn't  " — 

"  I  don't  think  anything  ;  I'm  so  glad  !  I  supposed 
from  what  you  said  about  the  world,  that  it  must  be — 
But  if  it  isn't,  all  the  better.  If  it's  Mr.  Hinkle  that 
you  can  have  " — 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  can.  I  should  like  to  tell  you  just 
how  it  is,  and  then  you  will  know."  It  needed  fewer 
words  for  this  than  she  expected,  and  then  Clemen 
tina, took  a  letter  from  her  pocket,  and  gave  it  to  Miss 
Milray.  "  He  wrote  it  on  the  train,  going  away,  and 
it's  not  very  plain ;  but  I  guess  you  can  make  it  out." 

Miss  Milray  received  the  penciled  leaves,  which 
seemed  to  be  pages  torn  out  of  a  note-book.  They 
were  dated  the  day  Hinkle  left  Venice,  and  the  en 
velope  bore  the  postmark  of  Verona.  They  were  not 
addressed,  but  began  abruptly  :  "  I  believe  I  have 
made  a  mistake ;  I  ought  not  to  have  given  you  up 
till  I  knew  something  that  no  one  but  you  can  tell  me. 
You  are  not  bound  to  any  body  unless  you  wish  to  be 
so.  That  is  what  I  see  now,  and  I  will  not  give  you 
up  if  I  can  help  it.  Even  if  you  had  made  a  promise, 
and  then  changed  your  mind,  you  would  not  be  bound 
in  such  a  thing  as  this.  I  say  this,  and  I  know  you 
will  not  believe  I  say  it  because  I  want  you.  I  do 


RAGGED    LADY.  271 

want  yon,  but  I  would  not  urge  you  to  break  your 
faith.  I  only  ask  you  to  realize  that  if  you  kept  your 
word  when  your  heart  had  gone  out  of  it,  you  would 
be  breaking  your  faith ;  and  if  you  broke  your  word 
you  would  be  keeping  your  faith.  But  if  your  heart 
is  still  in  your  word,  I  have  no  more  to  say.  Nobody 
knows  but  you.  I  would  get  out  and  take  the  first 
train  back  to  Venice  if  it  were  not  for  two  things.  I 
know  it  would  be  hard  on  me ;  and  I  am  afraid  it 
might  be  hard  on  you.  But  if  you  will  write  me  a 
line  at  Milan,  when  you  get  this,  or  if  you  will  write 
to  me  at  London  before  July ;  or  at  New  York  at 
any  time — for  I  expect  to  wait  as  long  as  I  live  " — 

The  letter  ended  here  in  the  local  addresses  which 
the  writer  gave. 

Miss  Milray  handed  the  leaves  back  to  Clementina, 
who  put  them  into  her  pocket,  and  apparently  waited 
for  her  questions. 

"And  have  you  written?" 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  "  I 
haven't.  I  wanted  to,  at  fust ;  and  then,  I  thought 
that  if  he  truly  meant  what  he  said  he  would  be  will 
ing  to  wait." 

"  And  why  did  you  want  to  wait  ? " 

Clementina  replied  with  a  question  of  her  own. 
"  Miss  Milray,  what  do  you  think  about  Mr.  Gregory  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  ask  me  that,  my  dear !  I  was 
afraid  I  had  told  you  too  plainly,  the  last  time." 

"  I  don't  mean  about  his  letting  me  think  he  didn't 
ca'e  for  me,  so  long.  But  don't  you  think  he  wants 
to  do  what  is  right !  Mr.  Gregory,  I  mean." 


272  BAGGED    LADY. 

"  Well,  if  you  put  me  on  my  honor,  I'm  afraid  I  do.' 

"  You  see,"  Clementina  resumed.  "  He  was  the 
fust  one,  and  I  did  ca'e  for  him  a  great  deal ;  and  I 
might  have  gone  on  caring  for  him,  if —  When  I 
found  out  that  I  didn't  care  any  longer,  or  so  much, 
it  seemed  to  me  as  if  it  must  be  wrong.  Do  you 
think  it  was  ?  " 

"No— no." 

"  When  I  got  to  thinking  about  some  one  else — 
at  fust  it  was  only  not  thinking  about  him—I,  was 
ashamed.  Then  I  tried  to  make  out  that  I  was  too 
young  in  the  fust  place,  to  know  whether  I  really 
ca'ed  for  any  one  in  the  right  way ;  but  after  I  made 
out  that  I  was,  I  couldn't  feel  exactly  easy  ;  and  I've 
been  wanting  to  ask  you,  Miss  Milray  "- 

"  Ask  me  anything  you  like,  my  dear  !  " 

"  Why,  it's  only  whether  a  person  ought  eva  to 
change  " — 

"  We  change  whether  we  ought,  or  not.  It  isn't  a 
matter  of  duty,  one  way  or  another." 

"  Yes,  but  ought  we  to  stop  caring  for  somebody, 
when  perhaps  we  shouldn't  if  somebody  else  hadn't 
come  between  ?  That  is  the  question." 

"  No,"  Miss  Milray  retorted,  "  that  isn't  at  all  the 
question.  The  question  is  which  you  want  and 
whether  you  could  get  him.  Whichever  you  want 
most  it  is  right  for  you  to  have." 

"  Do  you  truly  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed.  This  is  the  one  thing  in  life  where 
one  may  choose  safest  what  one  likes  best ;  I  mean 
if  there  is  nothing  bad  in  the  man  himself." 


KAGGED    LADY.  273 

"  I  was  afraid  it  would  be  wrong !  That  was  what 
I  meant  by  wanting  to  be  fai'a  with  Mr.  Gregory  when 
I  told  you  about  him  there  in  Florence.  I  don't  be 
lieve  but  what  it  had  begun  then." 

"  What  had  begun  ?  " 

"About  Mr.  Hinkle." 

Miss  Milray  burst  into  a  laugh.  "Clementina, 
you're  delicious ! "  The  girl  looked  hurt,  and  Miss 
Milray  asked  seriously,  "  Why  do  you  like  Mr.  Hinkle 
best — if  you  do  ?  " 

Clementina  sighed.  "  Oh,  I  don't  know.  He's  so 
resting" 

"  Then  that  settles  it.  From  first  to  last,  what  we 
poor  women  want  is  rest.  It  would  be  a  wicked  thing 
for  you  to  throw  your  life  away  on  some  one  who 
would  worry  you  out  of  it.  I  don't  wish  to  say  any 
thing  against  Mr.  Gregory.  I  dare  say  he  is  good 
and  conscientious ;  but  life  is  a  struggle,  at  the  best, 
and  it's  your  duty  to  take  the  best  chance  for  rest- 
ing." 

Clementina  did  not  look  altogether  convinced, 
whether  it  was  Miss  Milray's  logic  or  her  morality 
that  failed  to  convince  her.  She  said,  after  a  moment, 
"  I  should  like  to  see  Mr.  Gregory  again." 

"  What  good  would  that  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  then  I  should  know." 

"  Know  what  ?  " 

"  Whether  I  didn't  really  ca'e  for  him  any  more — 
or  so  much." 

"  Clementina,"    said    Miss    Milray,    "  you  mustn't 
make  me  lose  patience  with  you  ! " 
R 


274  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  No.  But  I  thought  you  said  that  it  was  my  duty 
to  do  what  I  wished." 

"  Well,  yes.  That  is  what  I  said,"  Miss  Mil  ray 
consented.  "  But  I  supposed  that  you  knew  already." 

"  No,"  said  Clementina,  candidly,  "  I  don't  believe 
I  do." 

"  And  what  if  you  don't  see  him  ? " 

"  I  guess  I  shall  have  to  wait  till  I  do.  The'e  will 
be  time  enough." 

Miss  Milray  sighed,  and  then  she  laughed.  "  You 
are  young ! " 


XXXII. 

Miss  Milray  went  from  Clementina  to  call  upon  her 
sister-in-law,  and  found  her  brother,  which  was  per 
haps  what  she  hoped  might  happen. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  that  old  wretch  is 
going  to  defraud  that  poor  thing,  after  all,  and  leave 
her  money  to  her  husband's  half-sister's  children  ?  " 

"  You  wish  me  to  infer  the  Mrs.  Lander-Clementina 
situation  ? "  Milray  returned. 

"  Yes !  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  put  it  in  terms  that  are  not  action 
able,  then ;  for  your  words  are  decidedly  libellous." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I've  just  been  writing  Mrs.  Lander's  will  for  her, 
and  she's  left  all  her  property  to  Clementina,  except 
five  thousand  apiece  to  the  half-sister's  three  children." 

"  I  can't  believe  it !  " 

"Well,"  said  Milray,  with  his  gentle  smile,  "I 
think  that's  safe  ground  for  you.  Mrs.  Lander  will 
probably  have  time  enough  to  change  her  will  as  well 
as  her  mind  several  times  yet  before  she  dies.  The 
half-sister's  children  may  get  their  rights  yet." 

"  I  wish  they  might ! "  said  Miss  Milray,  with  an 


276  RAGGED    LADY. 

impassioned  sigh.  "  Then  perhaps  /should  get  Clem 
entina — for  a  while." 

Her  brother  laughed.  "  Isn't  there  somebody  else 
wants  Clementina  ? " 

"  Oh,  plenty.  But  she's  not  sure  she  wants  any 
body  else." 

"  Does  she  want  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  she  does.    She  wants  to  go  home." 

"  That's  not  a  bad  scheme.  I  should  like  to  go 
home  myself  if  I  had  one.  What  would  you  have 
done  with  Clementina  if  you  had  got  her,  Jenny  ? " 

"  What  would  any  one  have  done  with  her  ?  Mar 
ried  her  brilliantly,  of  course." 

"  But  you  say  she  isn't  sure  she  wishes  to  be  mar 
ried  at  all  ? " 

Miss  Milray  stated  the  case  of  Clementina's  divided 
mind,  and  her  belief  that  she  would  take  Hinkle  in 
the  end,  together  with  the  fear  that  she  might  take 
Gregory.  "  She's  very  odd,"  Miss  Milray  concluded. 
"She  puzzles  me.  Why  did  you  ever  send  her  to 
me?" 

Milray  laughed.  "  I  don't  know.  I  thought  she 
would  amuse  you,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  pleas 
ure  to  her." 

They  began  to  talk  of  some  affairs  of  their  own, 
from  which  Miss  Milray  returned  to  Clementina  with 
the  ache  of  an  imperfectly  satisfied  intention.  If  she 
had  meant  to  urge  her  brother  to  seek  justice  for  the 
girl  from  Mrs.  Lander,  she  was  not  so  well  pleased  to 
have  found  justice  done  already.  But  the  will  had 
been  duly  signed  and  witnessed  before  the  American 


RAGGED    LADY.  277 

vice-consul,  and  she  must  get  what  good  she  could 
out  of  an  accomplished  fact.  It  was  at  least  a  conso 
lation  to  know  that  it  put  an  end  to  her  sister-in-law's 
patronage  of  the  girl,  and  it  would  be  interesting  to 
see  Mrs.  Milray  adapt  her  behavior  to  Clementina's 
fortunes.  She  did  not  really  dislike  her  sister-in-law 
enough  to  do  her  a  wrong ;  she  was  only  willing  that 
she  should  do  herself  a  wrong. 

But  one  of  the  most  disappointing  things  in  all 
hostile  operations  is  that  you  never  can  know  what 
the  enemy  would  be  at ;  and  Mrs.  Milray's  manoeuvres 
were  sometimes  dictated  by  such  impulses  that  her 
strategy  was  peculiarly  baffling.  The  thought  of  her 
past  unkindness  to  Clementina  may  still  have  rankled 
in  her,  or  she  may  simply  have  felt  the  need  of  out 
doing  Miss  Milray  by  an  unapproachable  benefaction. 
It  is  certain  that  when  Baron  Belsky  came  to  Venice 
a  few  weeks  after  her  own  arrival,  they  began  to  pose 
at  each  other  with  reference  to  Clementina;  she  with 
a  measure  of  consciousness,  he  with  the  singleness  of 
a  nature  that  was  all  pose.  In  his  forbearance  to  win 
Clementina  from  Gregory  he  had  enjoyed  the  dis 
tinction  of  an  unique  suffering ;  and  in  allowing  the 
fact  to  impart  itself  to  Mrs.  Milray,  he  bathed  in  the 
warmth  of  her  flattering  sympathy.  Before  she  with 
drew  this,  as  she  must  when  she  got  tired  of  him,  she 
learned  from  him  where  Gregory  was ;  for  it  seemed 
that  Gregory  had  so  far  forgiven  the  past  that  they 
had  again  written  to  each  other. 

During  the  fortnight  of  Belsky's  stay  in  Venice 
Mrs.  Lander  was  much  worse,  and  Clementina  met  him 


278  RAGGED    LADY. 

only  once,  very  briefly.  She  felt  that  he  had  behaved 
like  a  very  silly  person,  but  that  was  all  over  now,  and 
she  had  no  wish  to  punish  him  for  it.  At  the  end  of 
his  fortnight  he  went  northward  into  the  Austrian 
Tyrol,  and  a  few  days  later  Gregory  came  down  from 
the  Dolomites  to  Venice. 

It  was  in  his  favor  with  Clementina  that  he  yielded 
to  the  impulse  he  had  to  come  directly  to  her ;  and 
that  he  let  her  know  with  the  first  words  that  he  had 
acted  upon  hopes  given  him  through  Belsky  from 
Mrs.  Milray.  He  owned  that  he  doubted  the  author 
ity  of  either  to  give  him  these  hopes,  but  he  said  he 
could  not  abandon  them  without  a  last  effort  to  see 
her,  and  learn  from  her  whether  they  were  true  or 
false. 

If  she  recognized  the  design  of  a  magnificent  repar 
ation  in  what  Mrs.  Milray  had  done,  she  did  not  give 
it  much  thought.  Her  mind  was  upon  distant  things 
as  she  followed  Gregory's  explanation  of  his  presence, 
and  in  the  muse  in  which  she  listened  she  seemed 
hardly  to  know  when  he  ceased  speaking. 

"  I  know  it  must  seem  to  take  something  for  granted 
which  I've  no  right  to  take  for  granted.  I  don't  be 
lieve  you  could  think  that  I  cared  for  anything  but 
you,  or  at  all  for  what  Mrs.  Lander  has  done  for  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  her  leaving  me  her  money  ?  "  asked 
Clementina,  with  that  boldness  her  sex  enjoys  con 
cerning  matters  of  finance  and  affection. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregory,  blushing  for  her.  "  As  far 
as  I  should  ever  have  a  right  to  care,  I  could  wish 
there  were  no  money.  It  could  bring  no  blessing  to 
our  life.  We  could  do  no  good  with  it ;  nothing  but 


RAGGED    LADY.  279 

the  sacrifice  of  ourselves  in  poverty  could  be  blessed 
to  us." 

"  That  is  what  I  thought,  too,"  Clementina  replied. 

"  Oh,  then  you  did  think  "— 

"  But  afterwards,"  she  added,  "  I  changed  my  mind. 
If  she  wants  to  give  me  her  money  I  shall  take  it." 

Gregory  was  blankly  silent  again. 

"  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  refuse,  and  I  don't  know 
as  I  should  have  any  right  to."  Gregory  shrank  a 
little  from  her  reyankeefied  English,  as  well  as  from 
the  apparent  cynicism  of  her  speech ;  but  he  shrank 
in  silence  still.  She  startled  him  by  asking  with  a 
kindness  that  was  almost  tenderness,  "  Mr.  Gregory, 
how  do  you  think  anything  has  changed  ? " 

"  Changed  ? " 

"  You  know  how  it  was  when  you  went  away  from 
Florence.  Do  you  think  differently  now  ?  I  don't. 
I  don't  think  I  ought  to  do  something  for  you,  and 
pretend  that  I  was  doing  it  for  religion.  I  don't  be 
lieve  the  way  you  do  ;  and  I  know  I  neva  shall.  Do 
you  want  me  to  go  with  you,  afta  that  ?  Do  you  want 
me,  in  spite  of  my  saying  that  I  can  neva  help  you  in 
your  wo'k  because  I  believe  in  it  ? " 

"  But  if  you  believe  in  me  " — 

She  shook  her  head  compassionately.  "You  know 
we  ahgued  that  out  before.  We  are  just  whe'e  we 
were.  I  am  sorry.  Nobody  had  any  right  to  tell 
you  to  come  he'e.  But  I  am  glad  you  came."  She 
saw  the  hope  that  lighted  up  his  face,  but  she  went  on 
unrelentingly.  "  I  think  we  had  betta  be  free." 

"Free?" 


280  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Yes,  from  eacli  other.  I  don't  know  how  you 
have  felt,  but  I  have  not  felt  free.  It  has  seemed  to 
me  that  I  promised  you  something.  If  I  did,  I  want 
to  take  my  promise  back  and  be  free." 

Her  frankness  appealed  to  his  own.  "You  are 
free.  I  never  held  you  bound  to  me  in  my  fondest 
hopes.  You  have  always  done  right." 

"  I  have  tried  to.  And  I  am  not  going  to  let  you 
go  away  thinking  that  the  reason  I  said  is  the  only 
reason.  It  isn't.  I  wish  to  be  free  because — there  is 
some  one  else,  now."  It  was  hard  to  tell  him  this,  but 
she  knew  that  she  must  not  do  less ;  and  the  train 
that  carried  him  from  Venice  that  night  bore  a  letter 
from  her  to  Hinkle. 


XXXIII. 

CLEMENTINA  told  Miss  Milray  what  had  happened, 
but  with  Mrs.  Milray  the  girl  left  the  sudden  depart 
ure  of  Gregory  to  account  for  itself. 

They  all  went  a  week  later,  and  Mrs.  Milray  having 
now  done  her  whole  duty  to  Clementina  had  the 
easiest  mind  concerning  her.  Miss  Milray  felt  that 
she  was  leaving  her  to  greater  trials  than  ever  with 
Mrs.  Lander;  but  since  there  was  nothing  else,  she 
submitted,  as  people  always  do  with  the  trials  of 
others,  and  when  she  was  once  away  she  began  to 
forget  her. 

By  this  time,  however,  it  was  really  better  for  her. 
With  no  one  to  suspect  of  tampering  with  her  alle 
giance,  Mrs.  Lander  returned  to  her  former  fondness 
for  the  girl,  and  they  were  more  peaceful  if  not  hap 
pier  together  again.  They  had  long  talks,  such  as 
they  used  to  have,  and  in  the  first  of  these  Clemen 
tina  told  her  how  and  why  she  had  written  to  Mr. 
Hinkle.  Mrs.  Lander  said  that  it  suited  her  exactly. 

"  There  haVt  but  just  two  men  in  Europe  behaved 
like  gentlemen  to  me,  and  one  is  Mr.  Hinkle,  and  the 
other  is  that  lo'd ;  and  between  the  two  I  ratha  you'd 


282  RAGGED    LADY. 

have  Mr.  Ilinkle ;  I  don't  know  as  I  believe  much  in 
American  guls  marryin'  lo'ds,  the  best  of  'em." 

Clementina  laughed.  "Why,  Mrs.  Landa,  Lo'd 
Lioncou't  never  thought  of  me  in  the  wo'ld  ! " 

"  You  can't  eva  know.  Mrs.  Milray  was  tellin' 
that  he's  what  they  call  a  pooa  lo'd,  and  that  he  was 
carryin'  on  with  the  American  girls  like  everything 
down  there  in  Egypt  last  winta.  I  guess  if  it  comes 
to  money  you'd  have  enough  to  buy  him  and  sell  him 
again." 

The  mention  of  money  cast  a  chill  upon  their  talk ; 
and  Mrs.  Lander  said  gloomily,  "  I  don't  know  as  I 
ca'e  so  much  for  that  will  Mr.  Milray  made  for  me, 
after  all.  I  did  want  to  say  ten  thousand  apiece  for 
Mr.  Landa's  relations;  but  I  hated  to  befo'e  him;  I'd 
told  the  whole  kit  of  'em  so  much  about  you,  and  I 
knew  what  they  would  think." 

She  looked  at  Clementina  with  recurring  grudge, 
and  the  girl  could  not  bear  it. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  tear  it  up,  and  make  another? 
I  don't  want  anything,  unless  you  want  me  to  have  it ; 
and  I'd  ratha  not  have  anything." 

"  Yes,  and  what  would  folks  say,  afta  youa  takin' 
care  of  me  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  do  it  fo'  that  ? " 

"  What  do  you  do  it  fo'  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  want  me  to  come  with  you  fo'  ? " 

"  That's  true."  Mrs.  Lander  brightened  and  warmed 
again.  "  I  guess  it's  all  right.  I  guess  I  done  right, 
and  I  got  to  be  satisfied.  I  presume  I  could  get  the 
consul  to  make  me  a  will  any  time." 


RAGGED    LADY.  283 

Clementina  did  not  relent  so  easily.  "  Mrs.  Landa, 
whateva  you  do  I  don't  ca'c  to  know  it ;  and  if  you 
talk  to  me  again  about  this  I  shall  go  home.  I  would 
stay  with  you  as  long  as  you  needed  me,  but  I  can't 
if  you  keep  bringing  this  up." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you  don't  need  me  any  moa  ! 
Betta  not  be  too  su'a." 

The  girl  jumped  to  her  feet,  and  Mrs.  Lander  in 
terposed.  "  Well,  the'a !  I  didn't  mean  anything, 
and  I  won't  pesta  you  about  it  any  moa.  But  I  think 
it's  pretty  ha'd.  Who  am  I  going  to  talk  it  ova  with, 
then  ? " 

"  You  can  talk  it  ova  with  the  vice-consul,"  said 
Clementina,  at  random. 

"  Well,  that's  so."  Mrs.  Lander  let  Clementina 
get  her  ready  for  the  night,  in  sign  of  returning  amity ; 
when  she  was  angry  with  her  she  always  refused  her 
help,  and  made  her  send  Maddalena. 

The  summer  heat  increased,  and  the  sick  woman 
suffered  from  it,  but  she  could  not  be  persuaded  that 
she  had  strength  to  get  away,  though  the  vice-consul, 
whom  she  advised  with,  used  all  his  logic  with  her. 
He  was  a  gaunt  and  weary  widower,  who  described 
himself  as  being  officially  between  hay  and  grass ;  the 
consul  who  appointed  him  had  resigned  after  going 
home,  and  a  new  consul  had  not  yet  been  sent  out  to 
remove  him.  On  what  she  called  her  well  days  Mrs. 
Lander  went  to  visit  him,  and  she  did  not  mind  his 
being  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  in  the  bit  of  garden  where 
she  commonly  found  him,  with  his  collar  and  cravat 
off,  and  clouded  in  his  own  smoke  ;  when  she  was  sick 


284  HAGGED    LADY. 

she  sent  for  him,  to  visit  her.  He  made  excuses  as 
often  as  she  could,  and  if  he  saw  Mrs.  Lander's  gon 
dola  coming  down  the  Grand  Canal  to  his  house  he 
hurried  on  his  cast  clothing,  and  escaped  to  the  Pi 
azza,  at  whatever  discomfort  and  risk  from  the  heat. 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  stand  it,  Miss  Claxon,"  he 
complained  to  Clementina,  as  soon  as  he  learned  that 
she  was  not  a  blood  relation  of  Mrs.  Lander's,  and 
divined  that  she  had  her  own  reservations  concerning 
her.  "  But  that  woman  will  be  the  death  of  me  if 
she  keeps  this  up.  What  does  she  think  I'm  here 
for  ?  If  this  goes  on  much  longer  I'll  resign.  The 
salary  won't  begin  to  pay  for  it.  What  am  I  going 
to  do  ?  I  don't  want  to  hurt  her  feelings,  or  not  to 
help  her;  but  I  know  ten  times  as  much  about  Mrs. 
Lander's  liver  as  I  do  about  my  own,  now" 

He  treated  Clementina  as  a  person  of  mature  judg 
ment  and  a  sage  discretion,  and  he  accepted  what 
comfo-rt  she  could  offer  him  when  she  explained  that 
it  was  everything  for  Mrs.  Lander  to  have  him  to  talk 
with.  "  She  gets  ti'ed  of  talking  to  me,"  she  urged, 
"  and  there's  nobody  else,  now." 

"  Why  don't  she  hire  a  valet  de  place,  and  talk  to 
him  ?  I'd  hire  one  myself  for  her.  It  would  be  a 
good  deal  cheaper  for  me.  It's  as  much  as  I  can  do 
to  stand  this  weather  as  it  is." 

The  vice-consul  laughed  forlornly  in  his  exaspera 
tion,  but  he  agreed  with  Clementina  when  she  said,  in 
further  excuse,  that  Mrs.  Lander  was  really  very  sick. 
He  pushed  back  his  hat,  and  scratched  his  head  with 
a  grimace. 


BAGGED    LADY.  285 

"Of  course,  we've  got  to  remember  she's  sick,  and 
I  shall  need  a  little  sympathy  myself  if  she  keeps  on 
at  me  this  way.  I  believe  I'll  tell  her  about  my  liver 
next  time,  and  see  how  she  likes  it.  Look  here,  Miss 
Claxon  !  Couldn't  we  get  her  off  to  some  of  those 
German  watering  places  that  are  good  for  her  com 
plaints  ?  I  believe  it  would  be  the  best  thing  for  her 
— not  to  mention  me.'' 

Mrs.  Lander  was  moved  by  the  suggestion  which 
he  made  in  person  afterwards ;  it  appealed  to  her  old 
nomadic  instinct ;  but  when  the  consul  was  gone  she 
gave  it  up.  "  We  couldn't  git  the'e,  Clementina.  I 
got  to  stay  he'e  till  I  git  up  my  stren'th.  I  suppose 
you'd  be  glad  enough  to  have  me  sta't,  now  the'e's 
nobody  he'e  but  me,"  she  added,  suspiciously.  "  You 
git  this  scheme  up,  or  him  ? " 

Clementina  did  not  defend  herself,  and  Mrs.  Lan 
der  presently  came  to  her  defence.  "  I  don't  believe 
but  what  he  meant  it  fo'  the  best — or  you,  whichever 
it  was,  and  I  appreciate  it ;  but  all  is  I  couldn't  git 
off.  I  guess  this  aia  will  do  me  as  much  good  as 
anything,  come  to  have  it  a  little  coola." 

They  went  every  afternoon  to  the  Lido,  where  a 
wheeled  chair  met  them,  and  Mrs.  Lander  was  trun 
dled  across  the  narrow  island  to  the  beach.  In  the 
evenings  they  went  to  the  Piazza,  where  their  faces 
and  figures  had  become  known,  and  the  Venetians 
gossipped  them  down  to  the  last  fact  of  their  relation 
with  an  accuracy  creditable  to  their  ingenuity  in  the 
affairs  of  others.  To  them  Mrs.  Lander  was  the  sick 
American,  very  rich,  and  Clementina  was  her  adoptive 


286  RAGGED    LADY. 

daughter,  who  would  have  her  millions  after  her. 
Neither  knew  the  character  they  bore  to  the  amiable 
and  inquisitive  public  of  the  Piazza,  or  cared  for  the 
fine  eyes  that  aimed  their  steadfast  gaze  at  them  along 
the  tubes  of  straw-barreled  Virginia  cigars,  or  across 
little  cups  of  coffee.  Mrs.  Lander  merely  remarked 
that  the  Venetians  seemed  great  for  gaping,  and  Clem 
entina  was  for  the  most  part  innocent  of  their  stare. 

She  rested  in  the  choice  she  had  made  in  a  content 
which  was  qualified  by  no  misgiving.  She  was  sorry 
for  Gregory,  when  she  remembered  him ;  but  her 
thought  was  filled  with  some  one  else,  and  she  waited 
in  faith  and  patience  for  the  answer  which  should 
come  to  the  letter  she  had  written.  She  did  not  know 
where  her  letter  would  find  him,  or  when  she  should 
hear  from  him  ;  she  believed  that  she  should  hear,  and 
that  was  enough.  She  said  to  herself  that  she  would 
not  lose  hope  if  no  answer  came  for  months ;  but  in 
her  heart  she  fixed  a  date  for  the  answer  by  letter, 
and  an  earlier  date  for  some  word  by  cable ;  but  she 
feigned  that  she  did  not  depend  upon  this ;  and  when 
no  word  came  she  convinced  herself  that  she  had  not 
expected  any. 

It  was  nearing  the  end  of  the  term  which  she  had 
tacitly  given  her  lover  to  make  the  first  sign  by  letter, 
when  one  morning  Mrs.  Lander  woke  her.  She 
wished  to  say  that  she  had  got  the  strength  to  leave 
Venice  at  last,  and  she  was  going  as  soon  as  their 
trunks  could  be  packed.  She  had  dressed  herself, 
and  she  moved  about  restless  and  excited.  Clemen 
tina  tried  to  reason  her  out  of  her  haste  ;  but  she 


RAGGED    LADY.  287 

irritated  her,  and  fixed  her  in  her  determination.  "  I 
want  to  get  away,  I  tell  you ;  I  want  to  get  away," 
she  answered  all  persuasion,  and  there  seemed  some 
thing  in  her  like  the  wish  to  escape  from  more  than 
the  oppressive  environment,  though  she  spoke  of 
nothing  but  the  heat  and  the  smell  of  the  canal.  "  I 
believe  it's  that,  moa  than  any  one  thing,  that's  kept 
me  sick  he'e,"  she  said.  "  I  tell  you  it's  the  malariar, 
and  you'll  be  down,  too,  if  you  stay." 

She  made  Clementina  go  to  the  banker's,  and  get 
money  to  pay  their  landlord's  bill,  and  she  gave  him 
notice  that  they  were  going  that  afternoon.  Clemen 
tina  wished  to  delay  till  they  had  seen  the  vice-consul 
and  the  doctor  ;  but  Mrs.  Lander  broke  out,  "  I  don't 
want  to  see  'em,  either  of  'em.  The  docta  wants  to 
keep  me  he'e  and  make  money  out  of  me ;  I  unda- 
stand  him ;  and  I  don't  believe  that  consul's  a  bit  too 
good  to  take  a  pussentage.  Now,  don't  you  say  a 
wo'd  to  either  of  'etn.  If  you  don't  do  exactly  what 
I  tell  you  I'll  go  away  and  leave  you  he'e.  Now, 
will  you?"' 

Clementina  promised,  and  broke  her  word.  She 
went  to  the  vice-consul  and  told  him  she  had  broken 
it,  and  she  agreed  with  him  that  he  had  better  not 
come  unless  Mrs.  Lander  sent  for  him.  The  doctor 
promptly  imagined  the  situation  and  said  he  would 
come  in  casually  during  the  morning,  so  as  not  to 
alarm  the  invalid's  suspicions.  He  owned  that  Mrs. 
Lander  was  getting  no  good  from  remaining  in  Ven 
ice,  and  if  it  were  possible  for  her  to  go,  he  said  she 
had  better  go  somewhere  into  cooler  and  higher  air. 


288  BAGGED    LADY. 

His  opinion  restored  him  to  Mrs.  Lander's  esteem, 
when  it  was  expressed  to  her,  and  as  she  was  left  to 
fix  the  sum  of  her  debt  to  him,  she  made  it  hand 
somer  than  anything  he  had  dreamed  of.  She  held 
out  against  seeing  the  vice-consul  till  the  landlord 
sent  in  his  account.  This  was  for  the  whole  month 
which  she  had  just  entered  upon,  and  it  included  fan 
tastic  charges  for  things  hitherto  included  in  the  rent, 
not  only  for  the  current  month,  but  for  the  months 
past  when,  the  landlord  explained,  he  had  forgotten 
to  note  them.  Mrs.  Lander  refused  to  pay  these  de 
mands,  for  they  touched  her  in  some  of  those  econ 
omies  which  the  gross  rich  practice  amidst  their 
profusion.  The  landlord  replied  that  she  could  not 
leave  his  house,  either  with  or  without  her  effects, 
until  she  had  paid.  He  declared  Clementina  his  pris 
oner,  too,  and  he  would  not  send  for  the  vice-consul 
at  Mrs.  Lander's  bidding.  How  far  he  was  within 
his  rights  in  all  this  they  could  not  know,  but  he  was 
perhaps  himself  doubtful,  and  he  consented  to  let 
them  send  for  the  doctor,  who,  when  he  came,  behaved 
like  anything  but  the  steadfast  friend  that  Mrs.  Lan 
der  supposed  she  had  bought  in  him.  He  advised 
paying  the  account  without  regard  to  its  justice,  as 
the  shortest  and  simplest  way  out  of  the  trouble ;  but 
Mrs.  Lander,  who  saw  him  talking  amicably  and  even 
respectfully  with  the  landlord,  when  he  ought  to  have 
treated  him  as  an  extortionate  scamp,  returned  to  her 
former  ill  opinion  of  him  ;  and  the  vice-consul  now 
appeared  the  friend  that  Doctor  Tradonico  had  falsely 
seemed.  The  doctor  consented,  in  leaving  her  to  her 


RAGGED    LADY.  289 

contempt  of  him,  to  carry  a  message  to  the  vice-con 
sul,  though  he  came  back,  with  his  finger  at  the  side 
of  his  nose,  to  charge  her  by  no  means  to  betray  his 
bold  championship  to  the  landlord. 

The  vice-consul  made  none  of  those  shows  of 
authority  which  Mrs.  Lander  had  expected  of  him. 
She  saw  him  even  exchanging  the  common  decencies 
with  the  landlord,  when  they  met;  but  in  fact  it  was 
not  hard  to  treat  the  smiling  and  courteous  rogue 
well.  In  all  their  disagreement  he  had  looked  as  con 
stantly  to  the  comfort  of  his  captives  as  if  they  had 
been  his  chosen  guests.  He  sent  Mrs.  Lander  a  much 
needed  refreshment  at  the  stormiest  moment  of  her 
indignation,  and  he  deprecated  without  retort  the 
denunciations  aimed  at  him  in  Italian  which  did  not 
perhaps  carry  so  far  as  his  conscience.  The  consul 
talked  with  him  in  a  calm  scarcely  less  shameful  than 
that  of  Dr.  Tradonico ;  and  at  the  end  of  their  parley 
which  she  had  insisted  upon  witnessing,  he  said: 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Lander,  you've  got  to  stand  this  gouge 
or  you've  got  to  stand  a  law  suit.  I  think  the  gouge 
would  be  cheaper  in  the  end.  You  see,  he's  got  a 
right  to  his  month's  rent." 

"  It  ain't  the  rent  I  ca'e  for :  it's  the  candles,  and 
the  suvvice,  and  the  things  he  says  we  broke.  It 
was  undastood  that  everything  was  to  be  in  the  rent, 
and  his  two  old  chaias  went  to  pieces  of  themselves 
when  we  tried  to  pull  'em  out  from  the  wall ;  and  I'll 
neva  pay  for  'em  in  the  wo'ld." 

u  Why,"  the  vice-consul  pleaded,  "  it's  only  about 
forty  francs  for  the  whole  thing  " — 
S 


290  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  don't  care  if  it's  only  fotty  cents.  And  I  must 
say,  Mr.  Bennam,  you're  about  the  strangest  vice-con 
sul,  to  want  me  to  do  it,  that  /  eva  saw." 

The  vice-consul  laughed  unresentfully.  "  Well, 
shall  I  send  you  a  lawyer?" 

"  No  !  "  Mrs.  Lander  retorted ;  and  after  a  mo 
ment's  reflection  she  added,  "  I'm  goin'  to  stay  my 
month,  and  so  you  may  tell  him,  and  then  I'll  see 
whetha  he  can  make  me  pay  for  that  breakage  and 
the  candles  and  suvvice.  I'm  all  wore  out,  as  it  is, 
and  I  ain't  fit  to  travel,  now,  and  I  don't  know  when  I 
shall  be.  Clementina,  you  can  go  and  tell  Maddalena 
to  stop  packin'.  Or,  no !  Til  do  it." 

She  left  the  room  without  further  notice  of  the 
consul,  who  said  ruefully  to  Clementina,  "  Well,  I've 
missed  my  chance,  Miss  Claxon,  but  I  guess  she's 
done  the  wisest  thing  for  herself." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she's  not  fit  to  go.  She  must  stay,  now, 
till  it's  coola.  Will  you  tell  the  landlo'd,  or  shall " — 

"  I'll  tell  him,"  said  the  vice-consul,  and  he  had  in 
the  landlord.  He  received  her  message  with  the 
pleasure  of  a  host  whose  cherished  guests  have  con 
sented  to  remain  a  while  longer,  and  in  the  rush  of 
his  good  feeling  he  offered,  if  the  charge  for  breakage 
seemed  unjust  to  the  vice-consul,  to  abate  it;  and 
since  the  signora  had  not  understood  that  she  was  to 
pay  extra  for  the  other  things,  he  would  allow  the 
vice-consul  to  adjust  the  differences  between  them  ;  it 
was  a  trifle,  and  he  wished  above  all  things  to  content 
the  signora,  for  whom  he  professed  a  cordial  esteem 
both  on  his  own  part  and  the  part  of  all  his  family. 


RAGGED    LADY.  29*1 

"  Then  that  lets  me  out  for  the  present,"  said  the 
vice-consul,  when  Clementina  repeated  Mrs.  Lander's 
acquiescence  in  the  landlord's  proposals,  and  he  took 
his  straw  hat,  and  called  a  gondola  from  the  nearest 
traghettOj  and  bargained  at  an  expense  consistent  with 
his  salary,  to  have  himself  rowed  back  to  his  own 
garden-gate. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  an  era  of  better  feeling 
between  Mrs.  Lander  and  her  host  than  they  had  ever 
known,  and  at  dinner  he  brought  in  with  his  own 
hand  a  dish  which  he  said  he  had  caused  to  be  spe 
cially  made  for  her.  It  was  so  tempting  in  odor  and 
complexion  that  Mrs.  Lander  declared  she  must  taste 
it,  though  as  she  justly  said,  she  had  eaten  too  much 
already ;  when  she  had  once  tasted  it  she  ate  it  all, 
against  Clementina's  protestations ;  she  announced 
at  the  end  that  every  bite  had  done  her  good,  and 
that  she  never  felt  better  in  her  life.  She  passed  a 
happy  evening,  with  renewed  faith  in  the  air  of  the 
lagoon ;  her  sole  regret  now  was  that  Mr.  Lander  had 
not  lived  to  try  it  with  her,  for  if  he  had  she  was  sure 
he  would  have  been  alive  at  that  moment. 

She  allowed  herself  to  be  got  to  bed  rather  earlier 
than  usual;  before  Clementina  dropped  asleep  she 
heard  her  breathing  with  long,  easy,  quiet  respira 
tions,  and  she  lost  the  fear  of  the  landlord's  dish 
which  had  haunted  her  through  the  evening.  She 
was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  a  touch  on  her 
shoulder.  Maddalena  hung  over  her  with  a  frightened 
face,  and  implored  her  to  come  and  look  at  the  sig- 
nora,  who  seemed  not  at  all  well.  Clementina  ran 


292  RAGGED    LADY. 

into  her  room,  and  found  her  dead.  She  must  have 
died  some  hours  before  without  a  struggle,  for  the 
face  was  that  of  sleep,  and  it  had  a  dignity  and  beauty 
which  it  had  not  worn  in  her  life  of  self-indulgent 
wilfulness  for  so  many  years  that  the  girl  had  never 
seen  it  look  so  before. 


XXXIV. 

THE  vice-consul  was  not  sure  how  far  his  powers 
went  in  the  situation  with  which  Mrs.  Lander  had 
finally  embarrassed  him.  But  he  met  the  new  diffi 
culties  with  patience,  and  he  agreed  with  Clementina 
that  they  ought  to  see  if  Mrs.  Lander  had  left  any 
written  expression  of  her  wishes  concerning  the  event. 
She  had  never  spoken  of  such  a  chance,  but  had  always 
looked  forward  to  getting  well  and  going  home,  so 
far  as  the  girl  knew,  and  the  most  careful  search  now 
brought  to  light  nothing  that  bore  upon  it.  In  the 
absence  of  instructions  to  the  contrary,  they  did  what 
they  must,  and  the  body,  emptied  of  its  life  of  sense 
less  worry  and  greedy  care,  was  laid  to  rest  in  the 
island  cemetery  of  Venice. 

When  all  was  over,  the  vice-consul  ventured  an 
observation  which  he  had  hitherto  delicately  withheld. 
The  question  of  Mrs.  Lander's  kindred  had  already 
been  discussed  between  him  and  Clementina,  and  he 
now  felt  that  another  question  had  duly  presented 
itself.  "  You  didn't  notice,"  he  suggested,  "  anything 
like  a  will  when  we  went  over  the  papers  ?  "  He  had 
looked  carefully  for  it,  expecting  that  there  might 


294  RAGGED    LADY. 

have  been  some  expression  of  Mrs.  Lander's  wishes  in 
it.  "  Because,"  he  added,  "  I  happen  to  know  that 
Mr.  Milray  drew  one  up  for  her;  I  witnessed  it." 

"  No,"  said  Clementina,  "  I  didn't  see  anything  of 
it.  She  told  me  she  had  made  a  will ;  but  she  didn't 
quite  like  it,  and  sometimes  she  thought  she  would 
change  it.  She  spoke  of  getting  you  to  do  it ;  I 
didn't  know  but  she  had." 

The  vice-consul  shook  his  nead.  "  No.  And  these 
relations  of  her  husband's  up  in  Michigan ;  you  don't 
know  where  they  live,  exactly  ? " 

"  No.  She  neva  told  me  ;  she  wouldn't ;  she  didn't 
like  to  talk  about  them  ;  I  don't  even  know  their 
names." 

The  vice-consul  thoughtfully  scratched  a  corner  of 
his  chin  through  his  beard.  "  If  there  isn't  any  will, 
they're  the  heirs.  I  used  to  be  a  sort  of  wild-cat 
lawyer,  and  I  know  that  much  law." 

"Yes,"  said  Clementina.  "  She  left  them  five 
thousand  dollas  apiece.  She  said  she  wished  she  had 
made  it  ten." 

"  I  guess  she's  made  it  a  good  deal  more,  if  she's 
made  it  anything.  Miss  Claxon,  don't  you  under 
stand  that  if  no  will  turns  up,  they  come  in  for  all 
her  money  ? " 

"Well,  that's  what  I  thought  they  ought  to  do," 
said  Clementina. 

"And  do  you  understand  that  if  that's  so,  you 
don't  come  in  for  anything?  You  must  excuse  me 
for  mentioning  it ;  but  she's  told  everybody  that  you 
were  to  have  it,  and  if  there's  no  will " — 


RAGGED    LADY.  295 

He  stopped  and  bent  an  eye  of  lack-lustre  compas 
sion  on  the  girl,  who  replied,  "  Oh,  yes.  I  know  that ; 
it's  what  I  always  told  her  to  do.  I  didn't  want  it." 

"  You  didn't  want  it  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well !  "  The  vice-consul  stared  at  her,  but  he 
forbore  the  comment  that  her  indifference  inspired. 
He  said  after  a  pause,  "  Then  what  we've  got  to  do  is 
to  advertise  for  the  Michigan  relations,  and  let  'em 
take  any  action  they  want  to." 

"That's  the  only  thing  we  could  do,  I  presume." 

This  gave  the  vice-consul  another  pause.  At  the 
end  of  it  he  got  to  his  feet.  "  Is  there  anything  I 
can  do  for  yow,  Miss  Claxon  ? " 

She  went  to  her  portfolio  and  produced  Mrs.  Lan 
der's  letter  of  credit.  It  had  been  made  out  for  three 
thousand  pounds,  in  Clementina's  name  as  well  as  her 
own ;  but  she  had  lived  wastef ully  since  she  had  come 
abroad,  and  little  money  remained  to  be  taken  up. 
With  the  letter  Clementina  handed  the  vice-consul  the 
roll  of  Italian  and  Austrian  bank-notes  which  she  had 
drawn  when  Mrs.  Lander  decided  to  leave  Venice; 
they  were  to  the  amount  of  several  thousand  lire  and 
gulden.  She  offered  them  with  the  insensibility  to 
the  quality  of  money  which  so  many  women  have,  and 
which  is  always  so  astonishing  to  men.  "  What  must 
I  do  with  these  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Why,  keep  them  !  "  returned  the  vice-consul  on 
the  spur  of  his  surprise. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  should  have  any  right  to,"  said 
Clementina.  "  They  were  hers." 


296  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Why,  but " —  The  vice-consul  began  his  protest, 
but  he  could  not  end  it  logically,  and  he  did  not  end 
it  at  all.  He  insisted  with  Clementina  that  she  had 
a  right  to  some  money  which  Mrs.  Lander  had  given 
her  during  her  life ;  he  took  charge  of  the  bank-notes 
in  the  interest  of  the  possible  heirs,  and  gave  her  his 
receipt  for  them.  In  the  meantime  he  felt  that  he 
ought  to  ask  her  what  she  expected  to  do. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  I  will  stay  in  Venice  awhile." 

The  vice-consul  suppressed  any  surprise  he  might 
have  felt  at  a  decision  given  with  mystifying  cheer 
fulness.  He  answered,  Well,  that  was  right ;  and  for 
the  second  time  he  asked  her  if  there  was  anything 
he  could  do  for  her. 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  returned.  "  I  should  like  to  stay 
on  in  the  house  here,  if  you  could  speak  for  me  to  the 
padrone." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't,  if  we  can  make 
the  padrone  understand  it's  different." 

"You  mean  about  the  price?"  The  vice-consul 
nodded.  "  That's  what  I  want  you  should  speak  to 
him  about,  Mr.  Bennam,  if  you  would.  Tell  him  that 
I  haven't  got  but  a  little  money  now,  and  he  would 
have  to  make  it  very  reasonable.  That  is,  if  you  think 
it  would  be  right  for  me  to  stay,  afta  the  way  he 
tried  to  treat  Mrs.  Lander." 

The  vice-consul  gave  the  point  some  thought,  and 
decided  that  the  attempted  extortion  need  not  make 
any  difference  with  Clementina,  if  she  could  get  the 
right  terms.  He  said  he  did  not  believe  the  padrone 
was  a  bad  fellow,  but  he  liked  to  take  advantage  of  a 


RAGGED    LADY.  297 

stranger  when  he  could ;  we  all  did.  When  he  came 
to  talk  with  him  he  found  him  a  man  of  heart  if  not 
of  conscience."  He  entered  into  the  case  with  the 
prompt  intelligence  and  vivid  sympathy  of  his  race, 
and  he  made  it  easy  for  Clementina  to  stay  till  she 
had  heard  from  her  friends  in  America.  For  himself 
and  for  his  wife,  he  professed  that  she  could  not  stay 
too  long,  and  they  proposed  that  if  it  would  content 
the  signorina  still  further  they  would  employ  Madda- 
lena  as  chambermaid  till  she  wished  to  return  to 
Florence ;  she  had  offered  to  remain  if  the  signorina 
stayed. 

"  Then  that  is  settled,"  said  Clementina  with  a  sigh 
of  relief ;  and  she  thanked  the  vice-consul  for  his  offer 
to  write  to  the  Milrays  for  her,  and  said  that  she 
would  rather  write  herself. 

She  meant  to  write  as  soon  as  she  heard  from  Mr. 
Hinkle,  which  could  not  be  long  now,  for  then  she 
could  be  independent  of  the  offers  of  help  which  she 
dreaded  from  Miss  Milray,  even  more  than  from  Mrs. 
Milray ;  it  would  be  harder  to  refuse  them ;  and  she 
entered  upon  a  passage  of  her  life  which  a  nature  less 
simple  would  have  found  much  more  trying.  But  she 
had  the  power  of  taking  everything  as  if  it  were  as 
much  to  be  expected  as  anything  else.  If  nothing  at 
all  happened  she  accepted  the  situation  with  implicit 
resignation,  and  with  a  gayety  of  heart  which  availed 
her  long,  and  never  wholly  left  her. 

While  the  suspense  lasted  she  could  not  write  home 
as  frankly  as  before,  and  she  sent  off  letters  to  Mid- 
dlemount  which  treated  of  her  delay  in  Venice  with 


298  RAGGED    LADY. 

helpless  reticence.  They  would  have  set  another  sort 
of  household  intolerably  wondering  and  suspecting, 
but  she  had  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  her  father 
would  probably  settle  the  whole  matter  by  saying  that 
she  would  tell  what  she  meant  when  she  got  round  to 
it ;  and  apart  from  this  she  had  mainly  the  comfort  of 
the  vice-consul's  society.  He  had  little  to  do  besides 
looking  after  her,  and  he  employed  himself  about  this 
in  daily  visits  which  the  padrone  and  his  wife  regarded 
as  official,  and  promoted  with  a  serious  respect  for  the 
vice-consular  dignity.  If  the  visits  ended,  as  they 
often  did,  in  a  turn  on  the  Grand  Canal,  and  an  ice 
in  the  Piazza,  they  appealed  to  the  imagination  of 
more  sophisticated  witnesses,  who  decided  that  the 
young  American  girl  had  inherited  the  millions  of  the 
sick  lady,  and  become  the  betrothed  of  the  vice-consul, 
and  that  they  were  thus  passing  the  days  of  their  en 
gagement  in  conformity  to  the  American  custom,  how 
ever  much  at  variance  with  that  of  other  civilizations. 
This  view  of  the  affair  was  known  to  Maddalena, 
but  not  to  Clementina,  who  in  those  days  went  back 
in  many  things  to  the  tradition  of  her  life  at  Middle- 
mount.  The  vice-consul  was  of  a  tradition  almost  as 
simple,  and  his  longer  experience  set  no  very  wide  in 
terval  between  them.  It  quickly  came  to  his  telling 
her  all  about  his  dead  wife  and  his  married  daughters, 
and  how,  after  his  home  was  broken  up,  he  thought 
he  would  travel  a  little  and  see  what  that  would  do 
for  him.  He  confessed  that  it  had  not  done  much ; 
he  was  always  homesick,  and  he  was  ready  to  go  as 
soon  as  the  President  sent  out  a  consul  to  take  his 


RAGGED    LADY.  299 

job  off  his  hands.  He  said  that  he  had  not  enjoyed 
himself  so  much  since  he  came  to  Venice  as  he  was 
doing  now,  and  that  he  did  not  know  what  he  should 
do  if  Clementina  first  got  her  call  home.  He  betrayed 
no  curiosity  as  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  her 
stay,  but  affected  to  regard  it  as  something  quite  nor 
mal,  and  he  watched  over  her  in  every  way  with  a 
fatherly  as  well  as  an  official  vigilance  which  never 
degenerated  into  the  semblance  of  any  other  feeling. 
Clementina  rested  in  his  care  in  entire  security. 
The  world  had  quite  fallen  from  her,  or  so  much  of 
it  as  she  had  seen  at  Florence,  and  in  her  indifference 
she  lapsed  into  life  as  it  was  in  the  time  before  that 
with  a  tender  renewal  of  her  allegiance  to  it.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  conversation  of  the  vice-consul  to 
distract  her  from  this ;  and  she  said  and  did  the  things 
at  Venice  that  she  used  to  do  at  Middlemonnt,  as 
nearly  as  she  could  ;  to  make  the  days  of  waiting  pass 
more  quickly,  she  tried  to  serve  herself  in  ways  that 
scandalized  the  proud  affection  of  Maddalena.  It  was 
not  fit  for  the  signorina  to  make  her  bed  or  sweep  her 
room ;  she  might  sew  and  knit  if  she  would  ;  but  these 
other  things  were  for  servants  like  herself.  She  con 
tinued  in  the  faith  of  Clementina's  gentility,  and  saw 
her  always  as  she  had  seen  her  first  in  the  brief  hour 
of  her  social  splendor  in  Florence.  Clementina  tried 
to  make  her  understand  how  she  lived  at  Middlemount, 
but  she  only  brought  before  Maddalena  the  humiliat 
ing  image  of  a  contadina,  which  she  rejected  not  only 
in  Clementina's  behalf,  but  that  of  Miss  Milray.  She 
told  her  that  she  was  laughing  at  her,  and  she  was 


300  RAGGED    LADY. 

fixed  in  her  belief  when  the  girl  laughed  at  that 
notion.  Her  poverty  she  easily  conceived  of ;  plenty 
of  signorine  in  Italy  were  poor  ;  and  she  protected 
her  in  it  with  the  duty  she  did  not  divide  quite  evenly 
between  her  and  the  padrone. 

The  date  which  Clementina  had  fixed  for  hearing 
from  Hinkle  by  cable  had  long  passed,  and  the  time 
when  she  first  hoped  to  hear  from  him  by  letter  had 
come  and  gone.  Her  address  was  with  the  vice-con 
sul  as  Mrs.  Lander's  had  been,  and  he  could  not  be 
ignorant  of  her  disappointment  when  he  brought  her 
letters  which  she  said  were  from  home.  On  the  sur 
face  of  things  it  could  only  be  from  home  that  she 
wished  to  hear,  but  beneath  the  surface  he  read  an 
anxiety  which  mounted  with  each  gratification  of  this 
wish.  He  had  not  seen  much  of  the  girl  while  Hin 
kle  was  in  Venice ;  Mrs.  Lander  had  not  begun  to 
make  such  constant  use  of  him  until  Hinkle  had  gone ; 
Mrs.  Milray  had  told  him  of  Clementina's  earlier 
romance,  and  it  was  to  Gregory  that  the  vice-consul 
related  the  anxiety  which  he  knew  as  little  in  its  nature 
as  in  its  object. 

Clementina  never  doubted  the  good  faith  or  con 
stancy  of  her  lover ;  but  her  heart  misgave  her  as  to 
his  well-being  when  it  sank  at  each  failure  of  the  vice- 
consul  to  bring  her  a  letter  from  him.  Something 
must  have  happened  to  him,  and  it  must  have  been 
something  very  serious  to  keep  him  from  writing ;  or 
there  was  some  mistake  of  the  post-office.  The  vice- 
consul  indulged  himself  in  personal  inquiries  to  make 
sure  that  the  mistake  was  not  in  the  Venetian  post- 


BAGGED    LADY.  801 

office ;  but  he  saw  that  he  brought  her  greater  distress 
in  ascertaining  the  fact.  He  got  to  dreading  a  look 
of  resolute  cheerfulness  that  came  into  her  face,  when 
he  shook  his  head  in  sign  that  there  were  no  letters, 
and  he  suffered  from  the  covert  eagerness  with  which 
she  glanced  at  the  superscriptions  of  those  he  brought 
and  failed  to  find  the  hoped-for  letter  among  them. 
Ordeal  for  ordeal,  he  was  beginning  to  regret  his 
trials  under  Mrs.  Lander.  In  them  he  could  at  least 
demand  Clementina's  sympathy,  but  against  herself 
this  was  impossible.  Once  she  noted  his  mute  dis 
tress  at  hers,  and  broke  into  a  little  laugh  that  he 
found  very  harrowing. 

"  I  guess  you  hate  it  almost  as  much  as  I  do,  Mr. 
Bennam." 

"  I  guess  I  do.  I've  half  a  mind  to  write  the  letter 
you  want,  myself." 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  let  you — or  the  letter  Pd  like 
to  write." 

It  had  come  to  her  thinking  she  would  write  again 
to  Hinkle ;  but  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  do  it. 
She  often  imagined  doing  it ;  she  had  every  word  of 
such  a  letter  in  her  mind ;  and  she  dramatized  every 
fact  concerning  it  from  the  time  she  should  put  pen 
to  paper,  to  the  time  when  she  should  get  back  the 
answer  that  cleared  the  mystery  of  his  silence  away. 
Her  fond  reveries  helped  her  to  bear  her  suspense  ; 
they  helped  to  make  the  days  go  by,  to  ease  the  doubt 
with  which  she  lay  down  at  night,  and  the  heartsick 
hope  with  which  she  rose  up  in  the  morning. 

One  dav,  at  the  hour  of  his  wonted  visit,  she  saw 


302  BAGGED    LADY. 

the  vice-consul  from  her  balcony  coming,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  with  another  figure  in  his  gondola,  and  a 
thousand  conjectures  whirled  through  her  mind,  and 
then  centred  upon  one  idea.  After  the  first  glance 
she  kept  her  eyes  down,  and  would  not  look  again 
while  she  told  herself  incessantly  that  it  could  not 
be,  and  that  she  was  a  fool  and  a  goose  and  a  perfect 
coot,  to  think  of  such  a  thing  for  a  single  moment. 
When  she  allowed  herself,  or  forced  herself,  to  look 
a  second  time,  as  the  boat  drew  near,  she  had  to  cling 
to  the  balcony  parapet  for  support,  in  her  disappoint 
ment. 

The  person  whom  the  vice-consul  helped  out  of  the 
gondola  was  an  elderly  man  like  himself,  and  she  took 
a  last  refuge  in  the  chance  that  he  might  be  Hinkle's 
father,  sent  to  bring  her  to  him  because  he  could  not 
come  to  her ;  or  to  soften  some  terrible  news  to  her. 
Then  her  fancy  fluttered  and  fell,  and  she  waited 
patiently  for  the  fact  to  reveal  itself.  There  was 
something  countrified  in  the  figure  of  the  man,  and 
something  clerical  in  his  face,  though  there  was  noth 
ing  in  his  uncouth  best  clothes  that  confirmed  this 
impression.  In  both  face  and  figure  there  was  a  vague 
resemblance  to  some  one  she  had  seen  before,  when 
the  vice-consul  said : 

"  Miss  Claxon,  I  want  to  introduce  the  Rev.  Mr. 
James  B.  Orson,  of  Michigan."  Mr.  Orson  took 
Clementina's  hand  into  a  dry,  rough  grasp,  while  he 
peered  into  her  face  with  small,  shy  eyes.  The  vice- 
consul  added  with  a  kind  of  official  formality,  "  Mr. 
Orson  is  the  half-nephew  of  Mr.  Lander,"  and  then 


ONE  DAY  SHE  SAW  THE  VICE-CONSUL  FROM  HER  BALCONY. 


RAGGED    LADY.  303 

Clementina  now  knew  whom  it  was  that  he  resembled. 
u  He  has  come  to  Venice,"  continued  the  vice-consul, 
"  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Lander ;  and  he  did  not  know 
of  her  death  until  I  informed  him  of  the  fact.  I 
should  have  said  that  Mr.  Orson  is  the  son  of  Mr. 
Lander's  half-sister.  He  can  tell  you  the  balance 
himself."  The  vice-consul  pronounced  the  conclud 
ing  word  with  a  certain  distaste,  and  the  effect  of 
gladly  retiring  into  the  background. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down  ? "  said  Clementina,  and  she 
added  with  one  of  the  remnants  of  her  Middlemount 
breeding,  "  Won't  you  let  me  take  your  hat  ? " 

Mr.  Orson  in  trying  to  comply  with  both  her  invi 
tations,  knocked  his  well  worn  silk  hat  from  the  hand 
that  held  it,  and  sent  it  rolling  across  the  room,  where 
Clementina  pursued  it  and  put  it  on  the  table. 

"  I  may  as  well  say  at  once,"  he  began  in  a  flat  ir- 
resonant  voice,  "  that  I  am  the  representative  of  Mrs. 
Lander's  heirs,  and  that  I  have  a  letter  from  her 
enclosing  her  last  will  and  testament,  which  I  have 
shown  to  the  consul  here  " — 

"Vice-consul,"  the  dignitary  interrupted  with  an 
effect  of  rejecting  any  part  in  the  aifair. 

"  Vice-consul,  I  should  say, — and  I  wish  to  lay  them 
both  before  you,  in  order  that  " — 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  right,"  said  Clementina  sweetly. 
"  I'm  glad  there  is  a  will.  I  was  afraid  there  wasn't 
any  at  all.  Mr.  Bennarn  and  I  looked  for  it  every - 
whe'e."  She  smiled  upon  the  Rev.  Mr.  Orson,  who 
silently  handed  her  a  paper.  It  was  the  will  which 
Milray  had  written  for  Mrs.  Lander,  and  which,  with 


304  RAGGED    LADY. 

whatever  crazy  motive,  she  had  sent  to  her  husband's 
kindred.  It  provided  that  each  of  them  should  be 
given  five  thousand  dollars  out  of  the  estate,  and  that 
then  all  should  go  to  Clementina.  It  was  the  will 
Mrs.  Lander  told  her  she  had  made,  but  she  had  never 
seen  the  paper  before,  and  the  legal  forms  hid  the 
meaning  from  her  so  that  she  was  glad  to  have  the 
vice-consul  make  it  clear.  Then  she  said  tranquilly, 
"  Yes,  that  is  the  way  I  supposed  it  was." 

Mr.  Orson  by  no  means  shared  her  calm.  He  did 
not  lift  his  voice,  but  on  the  level  it  had  taken  it  be 
came  agitated.  "  Mrs.  Lander  gave  me  the  address 
of  her  lawyer  in  Boston  when  she  sent  me  the  will, 
and  I  made  a  point  of  calling  on  him  when  I  went 
East,  to  sail.  I  don't  know  why  she  wished  me  to 
come  out  to  her,  but  being  sick,  I  presume  she  nat 
urally  wished  to  see  some  of  her  own  family." 

He  looked  at  Clementina  as  if  he  thought  she 
might  dispute  this,  but  she  consented  at  her  sweetest, 
"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  and  he  went  on : 

"  I  found  her  affairs  in  a  very  different  condition 
from  what  she  seemed  to  think.  The  estate  was 
mostly  in  securities  which  had  not  been  properly 
looked  after,  and  they  had  depreciated  until  they  were 
some  of  them  not  worth  the  paper  they  were  printed 
on.  The  house  in  Boston  is  mortgaged  up  to  its  full 
value,  I  should  say ;  and  I  should  say  that  Mrs.  Lan 
der  did  not  know  where  she  stood.  She  seemed  to 
think  that  she  was  a  very  rich  woman,  but  she  lived 
high,  and  her  lawyer  said  he  never  could  make  her 
understand  how  the  money  was  going.  Mr.  Lander 


RAGGED    LADY.  305 

seemed  to  lose  his  grip,  the  year  he  died,  and  engaged 
in  some  very  unfortunate  speculations ;  I  don't  know 
whether  he  told  her.  I  might  enter  into  details" — 

"  Oh,  that  is  not  necessary,"  said  Clementina,  po 
litely,  witless  of  the  disastrous  quality  of  the  facts 
which  Mr.  Orson  was  imparting. 

"  But  the  sum  and  substance  of  it  all  is  that  there 
will  not  be  more  than  enough  to  pay  the  bequests  to 
her  own  family,  if  there  is  that." 

Clementina  looked  with  smiling  innocence  at  the 
vice-consul. 

"That  is  to  say,"  he  explained,  "there  won't  be 
anything  at  all  for  you,  Miss  Claxon." 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  always  told  Mrs.  Lander  I 
ratha,  when  she  brought  it  up.  I  told  her  she  ought 
to  give  it  to  his  family,"  said  Clementina,  with  a  sat 
isfaction  in  the  event  which  the  vice-consul  seemed 
unable  to  share,  for  he  remained  gloomily  silent. 
"  There  is  that  last  money  I  drew  on  the  letter  of 
credit,  you  can  give  that  to  Mr.  Osson." 

"  I  have  told  him  about  that  money,"  said  the  vice- 
consul,  dryly.  "It  will  be  handed  over  to  him  when 
the  estate  is  settled,  if  there  isn't  enough  to  pay  the 
bequests  without  it." 

"  And  the  money  which  Mrs.  Landa  gave  me  before 
that,"  she  pursued,  eagerly.  Mr.  Orson  had  the  effect 
of  pricking  up  his  ears,  though  it  was  in  fact  merely 
a  gleam  of  light  that  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  That's  yours"  said  the  vice-consul,  sourly,  almost 
savagely.  "  She  didn't  give  it  to  you  without  she 
wanted  you  to  have  it,  and  she  didn't  expect  you  to 
T 


306  RAGGED    LADY. 

pay  her  bequests  with  it.  In  my  opinion,"  he  burst 
out,  in  a  wrathful  recollection  of  his  own  sufferings 
from  Mrs.  Lander,  "  she  didn't  give  you  a  millionth 
part  of  your  due  for  all  the  trouble  she  made  you ; 
and  I  want  Mr.  Orson  to  understand  that,  right  here." 

Clementina  turned  her  impartial  gaze  upon  Mr. 
Orson  as  if  to  verify  the  impression  of  this  extreme 
opinion  upon  him ;  he  looked  as  if  he  neither  accepted 
nor  rejected  it,  and  she  concluded  the  sentence  which 
the  vice-consul  had  interrupted.  "  Because  I  ratha 
not  keep  it,  if  there  isn't  enough  without  it." 

The  vice-consul  gave  way  to  violence.  "  It's  none 
of  your  business  whether  there's  enough  or  not.  What 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  keep  what  belongs  to  you,  and 
I'm  going  to  see  that  you  do.  That's  what  I'm  here 
for."  If  this  assumption  of  official  authority  did  not 
awe  Clementina,  at  least  it  put  a  check  upon  her  head 
long  self-sacrifice.  The  vice-consul  strengthened  his 
hold  upon  her  by  asking,  "What  would  you  do.  I 
should  like  to  know,  if  you  gave  that  up  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  should  get  along,"  she  returned,  light-heart 
edly,  but  upon  questioning  herself  whether  she  should 
turn  to  Miss  Milray  for  help,  or  appeal  to  the  vice- 
consul  himself,  she  was  daunted  a  little,  and  she 
added,  "  But  just  as  you  say,  Mr.  Bennam." 

"  I  say,  keep  what  fairly  belongs  to  you.  It's  only 
two  or  three  hundred  dollars  at  the  outside,"  he  ex 
plained  to  Mr.  Orson's  hungry  eyes ;  but  perhaps  the 
sum  did  not  affect  the  country  minister's  imagination 
as  trifling;  his  yearly  salary  must  sometimes  have 
been  little  more. 


RAGGED    LADY.  307 

The  whole  interview  left  the  vice-consul  out  of  hu 
mor  with  both  parties  to  the  affair;  and  as  to  Clem 
entina,  between  the  ideals  of  a  perfect  little  saint,  and 
a  perfect  little  simpleton  he  remained  for  the  present 
unable  to  class  her. 


XXXV. 

CLEMENTINA  and  the  vice-consul  afterwards  agreed 
that  Mrs.  Lander  must  have  sent  the  will  to  Mr.  Orson 
in  one  of  those  moments  of  suspicion  when  she  dis 
trusted  everyone  about  her,  or  in  that  trouble  concern 
ing  her  husband's  kindred  which  had  grown  upon  her 
more  and  more,  as  a  means  of  assuring  them  that  they 
were  provided  for. 

"  But  even  then,"  the  vice-consul  concluded,  "  I 
don't  see  why  she  wanted  this  man  to  come  out  here. 
The  only  explanation  is  that  she  was  a  little  off  her 
base  towards  the  last.  That's  the  charitable  suppo 
sition." 

"  I  don't  think  she  was  herself,  some  of  the  time," 
Clementina  assented  in  acceptance  of  the  kindly  con 
struction. 

The  vice-consul  modified  his  good  will  toward  Mrs. 
Lander's  memory  so  far  as  to  say,  "Well,  if  she'd 
been  somebody  else  most  of  the  time,  it  would  have 
been  an  improvement." 

The  talk  turned  upon  Mr.  Orson,  and  what  he  would 
probably  do.  The  vice-consul  had  found  him  a  cheap 
lodging,  at  his  request,  and  he  seemed  to  have  settled 


RAGGED    LADY.  309 

down  at  Venice  either  without  the  will  or  without  the 
power  to  go  home,  but  the  vice-consul  did  not  know 
where  he  ate,  or  what  he  did  with  himself  except  at 
the  times  when  he  came  for  letters.  Once  or  twice 
when  he  looked  him  up  he  found  him  writing,  and 
then  the  minister  explained  that  he  had  promised  to 
"correspond"  for  an  organ  of  his  sect  in  the  North 
west  ;  but  he  owned  that  there  was  no  money  in  it. 
He  Avas  otherwise  reticent  and  even  furtive  in  his 
manner.  He  did  not  seem  to  go  much  about  the  city, 
but  kept  to  his  own  room ;  and  if  he  was  writing  of 
Venice  it  must  have  been  chiefly  from  his  acquaint 
ance  with  the  little  court  into  which  his  windows 
looked.  He  affected  the  vice-consul  as  forlorn  and 
helpless,  and  he  pitied  him  and  rather  liked  him  as  a 
fellow-victim  of  Mrs.  Lander. 

One  morning  Mr.  Orson  came  to  see  Clementina, 
and  after  a  brief  passage  of  opinion  upon  the  weather, 
he  fell  into  an  embarrassed  silence  from  which  he 
pulled  himself  at  last  with  a  visible  effort.  "  I  hardly 
know  how  to  lay  before  you  what  I  have  to  say,  Miss 
Claxon,"  he  began,  "  and  I  must  ask  you  to  put  the 
best  construction  upon  it.  I  have  never  been  reduced 
to  a  similar  distress  before.  You  would  naturally 
think  that  I  would  turn  to  the  vice-consul,  on  such  an 
occasion ;  but  I  feel,  through  our  relation  to  the — to 
Mrs.  Lander — ah — somewhat  more  at  home  with  you." 

He  stopped,  as  if  he  wished  to  be  asked  his  busi 
ness,  and  she  entreated  him,  "  Why,  what  is  it,  Mr. 
Osson?  Is  there  something  I  can  do?  There  isn't 
anything  I  wouldn't ! " 


310  RAGGED    LADY. 

A  gleam,  watery  and  faint,  which  still  could  not  be 
quite  winked  away,  came  into  his  small  eyes.  "  Why, 
the  fact  is,  could  you — ah — advance  me  about  five 
dollars  ? " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Osson  ! "  she  began,  and  he  seemed  to 
think  she  wished  to  withdraw  her  offer  of  help,  for 
he  interposed. 

"  I  will  repay  it  as  soon  as  I  get  an  expected  remit 
tance  from  home.  I  came  out  on  the  invitation  of 
Mrs.  Lander,  and  as  her  guest,  and  I  supposed  " — 

"  Oh,  don't  say  a  wo'd  ! "  cried  Clementina,  but 
now  that  he  had  begun  he  was  powerless  to  stop. 

"  1  would  not  ask.  but  my  landlady  has  pressed  me 
for  her  rent — I  suppose  she  needs  it — and  I  have 
been  reduced  to  the  last  copper  " — 

The  girl  whose  eyes  the  tears  of  self  pity  so  rarely 
visited,  broke  into  a  sob  that  seemed  to  surprise  her 
visitor.  But  she  checked  herself  as  with  a  quick  in 
spiration  :  "  Have  you  been  to  breakfast  ? " 

"  Well — ah — not  this  morning,"  Mr.  Orson  admit 
ted,  as  if  to  imply  that  having  breakfasted  some  other 
morning  might  be  supposed  to  serve  the  purpose. 

She  left  him  and  ran  to  the  door.  u  Maddalena, 
Maddalena ! "  she  called ;  and  Maddalena  responded 
with  a  frightened  voice  from  the  direction  of  the 
kitchen : 

"  Vengo  subito  !  " 

She  hurried  out  with  the  coffee-pot  in  her  hand,  as 
if  she  had  just  taken  it  up  when  Clementina  called; 
and  she  halted  for  the  whispered  colloquy  between 
them  which  took  place  before  she  set  it  down  on  the 


RAGGED    LADY  311 

table  already  laid  for  breakfast ;  then  she  hurried  out 
of  the  room  again.  She  came  back  with  a  cantaloupe 
and  grapes,  and  cold  ham,  and  put  them  before  Clem 
entina  and  her  guest,  who  both  ignored  the  hunger 
with  which  he  swept  everything  before  him.  When 
his  famine  had  left  nothing,  he  said,,  in  decorous  com 
pliment  : 

"That  is  very  good  coffee, — I  should  think  the 
genuine  berry,  though  I  am  told  that  they  adulterate 
coffee  a  great  deal  in  Europe." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  asked  Clementina.  "  I  didn't  know 
it." 

She  left  him  still  sitting  before  the  table,  and  came 
back  with  some  bank-notes  in  her  hand.  "  Are  you 
sure  you  hadn't  betta  take  moa  ? "  she  asked. 

"  I  think  that  five  dollars  will  be  all  that  I  shall 
require,"  he  answered,  with  dignity.  "I  should  be 
unwilling  to  accept  more.  I  shall  undoubtedly  receive 
some  remittances  soon." 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  will,"  Clementina  returned,  and 
she  added,  "  I  am  waiting  for  lettas  myself  ;  I  don't 
think  any  one  ought  to  give  up." 

The  preacher  ignored  the  appeal  which  was  in  her 
tone  rather  than  her  words,  and  went  on  to  explain  at 
length  the  circumstances  of  his  having  come  to  Europe 
so  unprovided  against  chances.  When  he  wished  to 
excuse  his  imprudence,  she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  don't  say 
a  wo'd !  It's  just  like  my  own  fatha,"  and  she  told 
him  some  things  of  her  home  which  apparently  did 
not  interest  him  very  much.  He  had  a  kind  of  dull, 
cold  self-absorption  in  which  he  was  indeed  so  little 


312  BAGGED    LADY. 

like  her  father  that  only  her  kindness  for  the  lonely 
man  could  have  justified  her  in  thinking  there  was 
any  resemblance. 

She  did  not  see  him  again  for  a  week,  and  mean 
time  she  did  not  tell  the  vice-consul  of  what  had  hap 
pened.  But  an  anxiety  for  the  minister  began  to 
mingle  with  her  anxieties  for  herself;  she  constantly 
wondered  why  she  did  not  hear  from  her  lover,  and 
she  occasionally  wondered  whether  Mr.  Orson  were 
not  falling  into  want  again.  She  had  decided  to  be 
tray  his  condition  to  the  vice-consul,  when  he  came, 
bringing  the  money  she  had  lent  him.  He  had  re 
ceived  a  remittance  from  an  unexpected  source,  and  he 
hoped  she  would  excuse  his  delay  in  repaying  her  loan. 
She  wished  not  to  take  the  money,  at  least  till  he  was 
quite  sure  he  should  not  want  it,  but  he  insisted. 

"I  have  enough  to  keep  me,  now,  till  I  hear  from 
other  sources,  with  the  means  for  returning  home.  I 
see  no  object  in  continuing  here,  under  the  circum 
stances." 

In  the  relief  which  she  felt  for  him  Clementina's 
heart  throbbed  with  a  pain  which  was  all  for  herself. 
Why  should  she  wait  any  longer  either?  For  that 
instant  she  abandoned  the  hope  which  had  kept  her 
up  so  long ;  a  wave  of  homesickness  overwhelmed  her. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  back,  too,"  she  said.  "  I  don't 
see  why  I'm  staying.  Mr.  Osson,  why  can't  you  let 
me  " — she  was  going  to  say — "  go  home  with  you  ?  " 
But  she  really  said  what  was  also  in  her  heart,  "  Why 
can't  you  let  me  give  you  the  money  to  go  home  ?  It 
is  all  Mrs.  Landa's  money,  anyway." 


RAGGED    LADY.  313 

"  There  is  certainly  that  view  of  the  matter,"  he 
assented  with  a  promptness  that  might  have  suggested 
a  lurking  grudge  for  the  vice-consul's  decision  that 
she  ought  to  keep  the  money  Mrs.  Lander  had  given 
her. 

But  Clementina  urged  unsuspiciously:  "Oh,  yes, 
indeed !  And  I  shall  feel  better  if  you  take  it.  I 
only  wish  I  could  go  home,  too  ! " 

The  minister  was  silent  while  he  was  revolving, 
with  whatever  scruple  or  reluctance,  a  compromise 
suitable  to  the  occasion.  Then  he  said,  "Why  should 
we  not  return  together  ? " 

"  Would  you  take  me  ? "  she  entreated. 

"  That  should  be  as  you  wished.  I  am  not  much 
acquainted  with  the  usages  in  such  matters,  but  I  pre 
sume  that  it  would  be  entirely  practicable.  We  could 
ask  the  vice-consul." 

"Yes"— 

"  He  must  have  had  considerable  experience  in 
cases  of  the  kind.  Would  your  friends  meet  you  in 
New  York,  or  " — 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina  with  a  pang  for 
the  thought  of  a  meeting  she  had  sometimes  fancied 
there,  when  her  lover  had  come  out  for  her,  and  her 
father  had  been  told  to  come  and  receive  them. 
"  No,"  she  sighed,  "  the'e  wouldn't  be  time  to  let 
them  know.  But  it  wouldn't  make  any  difference.  I 
could  get  home  from  New  Yo'k  alone,"  she  added, 
listlessly.  Her  spirits  had  fallen  again.  She  saw 
that  she  could  not  leave  Venice  till  she  had  heard 
in  some  sort  from  the  letter  she  had  written.  "  Per- 


814  RAGGED    LADY. 

haps  it  couldn't  be  done,  after  all.  But  I  will  see  Mr. 
Bcnnam  about  it,  Mr.  Osson ;  and  I  know  lie  will  want 
you  to  have  that  much  of  the  money.  He  will  be 
coming  he'e,  soon." 

He  rose  upon  what  he  must  have  thought  her  hint, 
and  said,  u  I  should  not  wish  to  have  him  swayed 
against  his  judgment." 

The  vice-consul  came  not  long  after  the  minister 
had  left  her,  and  she  began  upon  what  she  wished  to 
do  for  him. 

The  vice-consul  was  against  it.  "  I  would  rather 
lend  him  the  money  out  of  my  own  pocket.  How  arc 
you  going  to  get  along  yourself,  if  you  let  him  have 
so  much  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  Then  she  said,  hope 
lessly,  "  Tve  a  great  mind  to  go  home  with  him.  I 
don't  believe  there's  any  use  waiting  here  any  longa." 
The  vice-consul  could  not  say  anything  to  this.  She 
added,  "  Yes,  I  believe  I  will  go  home.  We  we'e 
talking  about  it,  the  other  day,  arid  he  is  willing  to 
let  me  go  with  him." 

"  I  should  think  he  would  be,"  the  vice-consul  re 
torted  in  his  indignation  for  her.  "  Did  you  offer  to 
pay  for  his  passage  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  owned,  "  I  did,"  and  again  the  vice- 
consul  could  say  nothing.  "  If  I  went,  it  wouldn't 
make  any  difference  Avhether  it  took  it  all  or  not.  I 
should  have  plenty  to  get  home  from  New  York  with." 

"  Well,"  the  vice-consul  assented,  dryly,  "it's  for 
you  to  say." 

"  I  know  you  don't  want  me  to  do  it ! " 


RAGGED    LADY.  315 

"  Well,  I  shall  miss  you,"  he  answered,  evasively. 

"  And  I  shall  miss  you,  too,  Mr.  Bennam.  Don't 
you  believe  it  ?  But  if  I  don't  take  this  chance  to 
get  home,  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  eva  have  anotha. 
And  there  isn't  any  use  waiting — no,  there  isn't ! " 

The  vice-consul  laughed  at  the  sort  of  imperative 
despair  in  her  tone.  "How  are  you  going?  Which 
way,  I  mean." 

They  counted  up  Clementina's  debts  and  assets,  and 
they  found  that  if  she  took  the  next  steamer  from 
Genoa,  which  was  to  sail  in  four  days,  she  would  have 
enough  to  pay  her  own  way  and  Mr.  Orson's  to  New 
York,  and  still  have  some  thirty  dollars  over,  for  her 
expenses  home  to  Middlemount.  They  allowed  for  a 
second  cabin-passage,  which  the  vice-consul  said  was 
perfectly  good  on  the  Genoa  steamers.  He  rather 
urged  the  gentility  and  comfort  of  the  second  cabin- 
passage,  but  his  reasons  in  favor  of  it  were  wasted 
upon  Clementina's  indifference;  she  wished  to  get 
home,  now,  and  she  did  not  care  how.  She  asked  the 
vice-consul  to  see  the  minister  for  her,  and  if  he  were 
ready  and  willing,  to  telegraph  for  their  tickets.  He 
transacted  the  business  so  promptly  that  he  was  able 
to  tell  her  when  he  came  in  the  evening  that  every 
thing  was  in  train.  He  excused  his  coming;  he  said 
that  now  she  was  going  so  soon,  he  wanted  to  see  all 
he  could  of  her.  He  offered  no  excuse  when  he  came 
the  next  morning ;  but  he  said  he  had  got  a  letter  for 
her  and  thought  she  might  want  to  have  it  at  once. 

He  took  it  out  of  his  hat  and  gave  it  to  her.  It 
was  addressed  in  Hinkle's  writing ;  her  answer  had 


316  11AGGED    LADY. 

come  at  last;  she  stood  trembling  with  it  in  her 
hand. 

The  vice-consul  smiled.     "  Is  that  the  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered  back. 

"  All  right."  He  took  his  hat,  and  set  it  on  the 
back  of  his  head  before  he  left  her  without  other  sal 
utation. 

Then  Clementina  opened  her  letter.  It  was  in  a 
woman's  hand,  and  the  writer  made  haste  to  explain 
at  the  beginning  that  she  was  George  W.  Hinkle's 
sister,  and  that  she  was  writing  for  him ;  for  though 
he  was  now  out  of  danger,  he  was  still  very  weak,  and 
they  had  all  been  anxious  about  him.  A  month  be 
fore,  he  had  been  hurt  in  a  railroad  collision,  and  had 
come  home  from  the  West,  where  the  accident  hap 
pened,  suffering  mainly  from  shock,  as  his  doctor 
thought ;  he  had  taken  to  his  bed  at  once,  and  had 
not  risen  from  it  since.  He  had  been  out  of  his  head 
a  great  part  of  the  time,  and  had  been  forbidden 
everything  that  could  distress  or  excite  him.  His 
sister  said  that  she  was  writing  for  him  now  as  soon 
as  he  had  seen  Clementina's  letter  ;  it  had  been  for 
warded  from  one  address  to  another,  and  had  at  last 
found  him  there  at  his  home  in  Ohio.  He  wished  to 
say  that  he  would  come  out  for  Clementina  as  soon 
as  he  was  allowed  to  undertake  the  journey,  and  in 
the  meantime  she  must  let  him  know  constantly  where 
she  was.  The  letter  closed  with  a  few  words  of  love 
in  his  own  handwriting. 

Clementina  rose  from  reading  it,  and  put  on  her 
hat  in  a  bewildered  impulse  to  go  to  him  at  once ;  she 


RAGGED    LADY.  317 

knew,  in  spite  of  all  the  cautions  and  reserves  of  the 
letter  that  he  must  still  be  very  sick.  "When  she 
came  out  of  her  daze  she  found  that  she  could  only 
go  to  the  vice-consul.  She  put  the  letter  in  his  hands 
to  let  it  explain  itself.  "  You'll  undastand,  now,"  she 
said.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

When  he  had  read  it,  he  smiled  and  answered,  "  I 
guess  I  understood  pretty  well  before,  though  I  wasn't 
posted  on  names.  Well,  I  suppose  you'll  want  to  lay 
out  most  of  your  capital  on  cables,  now  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  laughed,  and  then  she  suddenly  lament 
ed,  "  Why  didn't  they  telegraph  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  guess  he  hadn't  the  head  for  it,"  said  the 
vice-consul,  "  and  the  rest  wouldn't  think  of  it.  They 
wouldn't,  in  the  country." 

Clementina  laughed  again,  in  joyous  recognition  of 
the  fact,  "  No,  my  fatha  wouldn't,  eitha  !  " 

The  vice-consul  reached  for  his  hat,  and  he  led  the 
way  to  Clementina's  gondola  at  his  garden  gate,  in 
greater  haste  than  she.  At  the  telegraph  office  he 
framed  a  dispatch  which  for  expansive  fullness  and 
precision  was  apparently  unexampled  in  the  experience 
of  the  clerk  who  took  it  and  spelt  over  its  English 
with  them.  It  asked  an  answer  in  the  vice-consul's 
care,  and,  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  Miss  Claxon,"  he  said 
with  a  husky  weakness  in  his  voice,  "  I  wish  you'd 
let  this  be  my  treat." 

She  understood.     "  Do  you  really,  Mr.  Bennam  ? " 

"  I  do  indeed." 

"Well,  then,  I  will,"  she  said,  but  when  he  wished 
to  include  in  his  treat  the  dispatch  she  sent  home  to 


318  RAGGED    LADY. 

her  father  announcing  her  coming,  she  would  not  let 
him. 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  as  they  rowed  away.  "  It's 
eight  o'clock  here,  now,  and  it  will  reach  Ohio  about 
six  hours  earlier ;  but  you  can't  expect  an  answer  to 
night,  you  know." 

"  No  " —  She  had  expected  it  though,  he  could 
see  that. 

"  But  whenever  it  comes,  I'll  bring  it  right  round 
to  you.  Now  it's  all  going  to  be  straight,  don't  you 
be  afraid,  and  you're  going  home  the  quickest  way  you 
can  get  there.  I've  been  looking  up  the  sailings,  and 
this  Genoa  boat  will  get  you  to  New  York  about  as 
soon  as  any  could  from  Liverpool.  Besides  there's 
always  a  chance  of  missing  connections  and  losing- 
time  between  here  and  England.  I  should  stick  to 
the  Genoa  boat." 

"  Oh  I  shall,"  said  Clementina,  far  less  fidgettcd 
than  he.  She  was,  in  fact,  resting  securely  again  in 
the  faith  which  had  never  really  deserted  her,  and  had 
only  seemed  for  a  little  time  to  waver  from  her  when 
her  hope  went.  Now  that  she  had  telegraphed,  her 
heart  was  at  peace,  and  she  even  laughed  as  she  an 
swered  the  anxious  vice-consul. 


XXXVI. 

THE  next  morning  Clementina  watched  for  the  vice- 
consul  from  her  balcony.  She  knew  he  would  not 
send ;  she  knew  he  would  come ;  but  it  Avas  nearly 
noon  before  she  saw  him  coming.  They  caught  sight 
of  each  other  almost  at  the  same  moment,  and  he 
stood  up  in  his  boat,  and  waved  something  white  in 
his  hand,  which  must  be  a  dispatch  for  her. 

It  acknowledged  her  telegram  and  reported  George 
still  improving;  his  father  would  meet  her  steamer  in 
New  York.  It  was  very  reassuring,  it  was  everything 
hopeful ;  but  when  she  had  read  it  she  gave  it  to  the 
vice-consul  for  encouragement. 

"It's  all  right,  Miss  Claxon,"  he  said,  stoutly. 
"  Don't  you  be  troubled  about  Mr.  Hinkle's  not  com 
ing  to  meet  you  himself.  He  can't  keep  too  quiet  for 
a  while  yet.'' 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Clementina,  patiently. 

"  If  you  really  want  somebody  to  worry  about,  you 
can  help  Mr.  Orson  to  worry  about  himself  !  "  the  vice- 
consul  went  on,  with  the  grimness  he  had  formerly 
used  in  speaking  of  Mrs.  Lander.  "  He's  sick,  or  he 
thinks  he's  going  to  be.  He  sent  round  for  me  this 


320  RAGGED    LADY. 

morning,  and  I  found  him  in  bed.  You  may  have  to 
go  home  alone.  But  I  guess  he's  more  scared  than 
hurt." 

Her  heart  sank,  and  then  rose  in  revolt  against 
the  mere  idea  of  delay.  "  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  go 
and  see  him,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  a  kindness,"  returned  the  vice- 
consul,  with  a  promptness  that  unmasked  the  appre 
hension  he  felt  for  the  sick  man. 

He  did  not  offer  to  go  with  her,  and  she  took 
Maddalena.  She  found  the  minister  seated  in  his 
chair  beside  his  bed.  A  three  days'  beard  heightened 
the  gauntness  of  his  face  ;  he  did  not  move  when  his 
padrona  announced  her. 

"  I  am  not  any  better,"  he  answered  when  she  said 
that  she  was  glad  to  see  him  up.  "  I  am  merely 
resting ;  the  bed  is  hard.  I  regret  to  say,"  he  added, 
with  a  sort  of  formal  impersonality,  "  that  I  shall  be 
unable  to  accompany  you  home,  Miss  Claxon.  That 
is,  if  you  still  think  of  taking  the  steamer  this  week." 

Her  whole  being  had  set  homeward  in  a  tide  that 
already  seemed  to  drift  the  vessel  from  its  moorings. 
"  What — what  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  he  returned,  "  but  that  in  view  of 
the  circumstances — all  the  circumstances — you  might 
be  intending  to  defer  your  departure  to  some  later 
steamer." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  must  go,  now.  I  couldn't  wait  a 
day,  an  hour,  a  minute  after  the  first  chance  of  going. 
You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying !  He  might  die 
if  I  told  him  I  was  not  coming ;  and  then  what  should 


RAGGED    LADY.  321 

I  do  ? "  This  was  what  Clementina  said  to  herself ; 
but  what  she  said  to  Mr.  Orson,  with  an  inspiration 
from  her  terror  at  his  suggestion  was,  "  Don't  you 
think  a  little  chicken  broth  would  do  you  good,  Mr. 
Osson  ?  /  don't  believe  but  what  it  would." 

A  wistful  gleam  came  into  the  preacher's  eyes. 
"  It  might,"  he  admitted,  and  then  she  knew  what 
must  be  his  malady.  She  sent  Maddalena  to  a  trat 
toria  for  the  soup,  and  she  did  not  leave  him,  even 
after  she  had  seen  its  effect  upon  him.  It  was  not 
hard  to  persuade  him  that  he  had  better  come  home 
with  her ;  and  she  had  him  there,  tucked  away  with 
his  few  poor  belongings,  in  the  most  comfortable  room 
the  padrone  could  imagine,  when  the  vice-consul  came 
in  the  evening. 

"  He  says  he  thinks  he  can  go,  now,"  she  ended, 
when  she  had  told  the  vice-consul.  "  And  I  know  he 
can.  It  wasn't  anything  but  pooa  living." 

"  It  looks  more  like  no  living,"  said  the  vice-consul. 
'•  Why  didn't  the  old  fool  let  some  one  know  that  he 
was  short  of  money  ?  "  He  went  on  with  a  partial 
transfer  of  his  contempt  of  the  preacher  to  her,  "  I 
suppose  if  he'd  been  sick  instead  of  hungry,  you'd 
have  waited  over  till  the  next  steamer  for  him." 

She  cast  down  her  eyes.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you'll  think  of  me.  I  should  have  been  sorry  for 
him,  and  I  should  have  wanted  to  stay."  She  lifted 
her  eyes  and  looked  the  vice-consul  defiantly  in  the 
face.  "  But  he  hadn't  the  fust  claim  on  me,  and  I 
should  have  gone — I  couldn't  have  helped  it  ! — I 
should  have  gone,  if  he  had  been  dying  !  " 
U 


322  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Well,  you've  got  more  horse-sense,"  said  the 
vice-consul,  "  than  any  ten  men  I  ever  saw,"  and  he 
testified  his  admiration  of  her  by  putting  his  arms 
round  her,  where  she  stood  before  him,  and  kissing 
her.  "Don't  you  mind,"  he  explained.  "If  my 
youngest  girl  had  lived,  she  would  have  been  about 
your  age." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,  Mr.  Bennam,"  said  Clementina. 

When  the  time  came  for  them  to  leave  Venice,  Mr. 
Orson  was  even  eager  to  go.  The  vice-consul  would 
have  gone  with  them  in  contempt  of  the  official  re 
sponsibilities  which  he  felt  to  be  such  a  thankless 
burden,  but  there  was  really  no  need  of  his  going,  and 
he  and  Clementina  treated  the  question  with  the  mat 
ter-of-fact  impartiality  which  they  liked  in  each  other. 
He  saw  her  off  at  the  station  where  Maddalena  had 
corne  to  take  the  train  for  Florence  in  token  of  her 
devotion  to  the  signorina,  whom  she  would  not  outstay 
in  Venice.  She  wept  long  and  loud  upon  Clemen 
tina's  neck,  so  that  even  Clementina  was  once  moved 
to  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  tearless  eyes. 

At  the  last  moment  she  had  a  question  which  she 
referred  to  the  vice  consul.  "  Should  you  tell  him  ? " 
she  asked. 

"Tell  who  what?"  he  retorted. 

"  Mr.  Osson — that  I  wouldn't  have  stayed  for 
him." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  make  you  feel  any  better  ? " 
asked  the  consul,  upon  reflection. 

"  I  believe  he  ought  to  know." 

"  Well,  then,  I  guess  I  should  do  it." 


RAGGED    LADY.  323 

The  time  did  not  come  for  her  confession  till  they 
had  nearly  reached  the  end  of  their  voyage.  It  fol 
lowed  upon  something  like  a  confession  from  the  min 
ister  himself,  which  he  made  the  day  he  struggled  on 
deck  with  her  help,  after  spending  a  week  in  his  berth. 

"  Here  is  something,"  he  said,  "  which  appears  to 
be  for  you,  Miss  Claxon.  I  found  it  among  some  let 
ters  for  Mrs.  Lander  which  Mr.  Bennam  gave  me  after 
my  arrival,  and  I  only  observed  the  address  in  looking 
over  the  papers  in  my  valise  this  morning."  He 
handed  her  a  telegram.  "  I  trust  that  it  is  nothing 
requiring  immediate  attention." 

Clementina  read  it  at  a  glance.  "No,"  she  an 
swered,  and  for  a  while  she  could  not  say  anything 
more ;  it  was  a  cable  message  which  Hinkle's  sister 
must  have  sent  her  after  writing.  No  evil  had  come 
of  its  failure  to  reach  her,  and  she  recalled  without 
bitterness  the  suffering  which  would  have  been  spared 
her  if  she  had  got  it  before.  It  was  when  she  thought 
of  the  suffering  of  her  lover  from  the  silence  which 
must  have  made  him  doubt  her,  that  she  could  not 
speak.  As  soon  as  she  governed  herself  against  her 
first  resentment  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  "  It  is  all 
right,  now,  Mr.  Osson,"  and  her  stress  upon  the  word 
seemed  to  trouble  him  with  no  misgiving.  "Besides, 
if  you're  to  blame  for  not  noticing,  so  is  Mr.  Bennam, 
and  I  don't  want  to  blame  any  one."  She  hesitated  a 
moment  before  she  added :  "  I  have  got  to  tell  you 
something,  now,  because  I  think  you  ought  to  know 
it.  I  am  going  home  to  be  married,  Mr.  Osson,  and 
this  message  is  from  the  gentleman  I  am  going  to  be 


11AGGED    LADY. 

married  to.  He  has  been  very  sick,  and  I  don't  know 
yet  as  he'll  be  able  to  meet  me  in  New  Yo'k  ;  but 
his  fatha  will." 

Mr.  Orson  showed  no  interest  in  these  facts  beyond 
a  silent  attention  to  her  words,  which  might  have 
passed  for  an  open  indifference.  At  his  time  of  life 
all  such  questions,  which  are  of  permanent  importance 
to  women,  affect  men  hardly  more  than  the  angels 
who  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage.  Be 
sides,  as  a  minister  he  must  have  had  a  surfeit  of  all 
possible  qualities  in  the  love  affairs  of  people  intend 
ing  matrimony.  As  a  casuist  he  was  more  reasonably 
concerned  in  the  next  fact  which  Clementina  laid  be 
fore  him. 

"  And  the  otha  day,  there  in  Venice  when  you  we'e 
sick,  and  you  seemed  to  think  that  I  might  put  off 
stahting  home  till  the  next  steamer,  I  don't  know  but 
I  let  you  believe  I  would." 

"  I  supposed  that  the  delay  of  a  week  or  two  could 
make  no  material  difference  to  you." 

"  But  now  you  see  that  it  would.  And  I  feel  as  if 
I  ought  to  tell  you — I  spoke  to  Mr.  Bennam  about  it, 
and  he  didn't  tell  me  not  to — that  I  shouldn't  have 
staid,  no  not  for  anything  in  the  wo'ld.  I  had  to  do 
what  I  did  at  the  time,  but  eva  since  it  has  seemed  as 
if  I  had  deceived  you,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  it 
seem  so  any  longer.  It  isn't  because  I  don't  hate  to 
tell  you ;  I  do ;  but  I  guess  if  it  was  to  happen  over  ' 
again  I  couldn't  feel  any  different.  Do  you  want  I 
should  tell  the  deck-stewahd  to  bring  you  some  beef- 
tea?" 


RAGGED    LADY.  325 

"  I  think  I  could  relish  a  small  portion,"  said  Mr. 
Orson,  cautiously,  and  he  said  nothing  more. 

Clementina  left  him  with  her  nerves  in  a  flutter, 
and  she  did  not  come  back  to  him  until  she  decided 
that  it  was  time  to  help  him  down  to  his  cabin.  He 
suffered  her  to  do  this  in  silence,  but  at  the  door  he 
cleared  his  throat  and  began : 

"  I  have  reflected  upon  what  you  told  me,  and  I 
have  tried  to  regard  the  case  from  all  points.  I  be 
lieve  that  I  have  done  so,  without  personal  feeling, 
and  I  think  it  my  duty  to  say,  fully  and  freely,  that  I 
believe  you  would  have  done  perfectly  right  not  to 
remain." 

"  Yes,"  said  Clementina,  "  I  thought  you  would 
think  so." 

They  parted  emotionlessly  to  all  outward  effect, 
and  when  they  met  again  it  was  without  a  sign  of 
having  passed  through  a  crisis  of  sentiment.  Neither 
referred  to  the  matter  again,  but  from  that  time  the 
minister  treated  Clementina  with  a  deference  not  with 
out  some  shadows  of  tenderness  such  as  her  helpless 
ness  in  Venice  had  apparently  never  inspired.  She 
had  cast  out  of  her  mind  all  lingering  hardness  tow 
ard  him  in  telling  him  the  hard  truth,  and  she  met 
his  faint  relentings  with  a  grateful  gladness  which 
showed  itself  in  her  constant  care  of  him. 

This  helped  her  a  little  to  forget  the  strain  of  the 
anxiety  that  increased  upon  her  as  the  time  shortened 
between  the  last  news  of  her  lover  and  the  next ;  and 
there  was  perhaps  no  more  exaggeration  in  the  import 
than  in  the  terms  of  the  formal  acknowledgment  which 


326  RAGGED    LADY. 

Mr.  Orson  made  her  as  tlieir  steamer  sighted  Fire 
Island  Light,  and  they  both  knew  that  their  voyage 
had  ended:  "  I  may  not  be  able  to  say  to  you  in  the 
hurry  of  our  arrival  in  New  York  that  I  am  obliged 
to  you  for  a  good  many  little  attentions,  which  I 
should  be  pleased  to  reciprocate  if  opportunity  offered. 
I  do  not  think  I  am  going  too  far  in  saying  that  they 
are  such  as  a  daughter  might  offer  a  parent." 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  it,  Mr.  Osson  !  "  she  protested. 
"  I  haven't  done  anything  that  any  one  wouldn't  have 
done." 

"  I  presume,"  said  the  minister,  thoughtfully,  as  if 
retiring  from  an  extreme  position,  "  that  they  are  such 
as  others  similarly  circumstanced,  might  have  done, 
but  it  will  always  be  a  source  of  satisfaction  for  you 
to  reflect  that  you  have  not  neglected  them." 


XXXVII. 

IN  the  crowd  which  thronged  the  steamer's  dock  at 
Hoboken,  Clementina  strained  her  eyes  to  make  out 
some  one  who  looked  enough  like  her  lover  to  be  his 
father,  and  she  began  to  be  afraid  that  they  might 
miss  each  other  when  she  failed.  She  walked  slowly 
down  the  gangway,  with  the  people  that  thronged  it, 
glad  to  be  hidden  by  them  from  her  failure,  but  at 
the  last  step  she  was  caught  aside  by  a  small  black- 
eyed,  black-haired  woman,  who  called  out  "  Isn't  this 
Miss  Claxon  ?  I'm  Georrge's  sisterr.  Oh,  you'rre  just 
like  what  he  said  !  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it ! "  and 
then  hugged  her  and  kissed  her,  and  passed  her  to  the 
little  lean  dark  old  man  next  her.  "  This  is  fatherr. 
I  knew  you  couldn't  tell  us,  because  I  take  afterr  him, 
and  Georrge  is  exactly  like  motherr." 

George's  father  took  her  hand  timidly,  but  found 
courage  to  say  to  his  daughter,  "  Hadn't  you  bettcrr 
let  her  own  fatherr  have  a  chance  at  herr  ? "  and 
amidst  a  tempest  of  apologies  and  self  blame  from 
the  sister,  Claxon  showed  himself  over  the  shoulders 
of  the  little  man. 

"  Why,  there  wa'n't  no    hurry,  as    long  as    she's 


328  BAGGED    LADY. 

he'a,"  lie  said,  in  prompt  enjoyment  of  the  joke,  and 
he  and  Clementina  sparely  kissed  each  other. 

"  Why,  fatha  !  "  she  said.  "  I  didn't  expect  you 
to  come  to  New  Yo'k  to  meet  me." 

"Well,  I  didn't  ha'dly  expect  it  myself;  but  I'd 
neva  been  to  Yo'k,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well 
come.  Things  ah'  ratha  slack  at  home,  just  now,  any 
way." 

She  did  not  heed  his  explanation.  "  We'e  you 
sca'ed  when  you  got  my  dispatch  ? " 

"  No,  we  kind  of  expected  you'd  come  any  time, 
the  way  you  wrote  afta  Mrs.  Landa  died.  We  thought 
something  must  be  up." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  absently.  Then,  "  Whe'e's  mo- 
tha  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  guess  she  thought  she  couldn't  get  round 
to  it,  exactly,"  said  the  father.  "  She's  all  right. 
Needn't  ask  you  !  " 

"  No,  I'm  fust-rate,"  Clementina  returned,  with  a 
silent  joy  in  her  father's  face  and  voice.  She  went 
back  in  it  to  the  girl  of  a  year  ago,  and  the  world 
which  had  come  between  them  since  their  parting- 
rolled  away  as  if  it  had  never  been  there. 

Neither  of  them  said  anything  about  that.  She 
named  over  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  he  answered, 
*'  Yes,  yes,"  in  assurance  of  their  well-being,  and  then 
he  explained,  as  if  that  were  the  only  point  of  real 
interest,  "I  see  your  folks  waitin'  he'e  fo'  somebody, 
and  I  thought  I'd  see  if  it  wa'n't  the  same  one,  and 
we  kind  of  struck  up  an  acquaintance  on  your  account 
befo'e  you  got  he'e,  Clem." 


RAGGED    LADY.  329 

"  Your  folks ! "  slic  silently  repeated  to  herself. 
"  Yes,  they  ah'  mine  !  "  and  she  stood  trying  to  realize 
the  strange  fact,  while  George's  sister  poured  out  a 
voluminous  comment  upon  Claxon's  spare  statement, 
and  George's  father  admired  her  volubility  with  the 
shut  smile  of  toothless  age.  She  spoke  with  the  burr 
which  the  Scotch-Irish  settlers  have  imparted  to  the 
whole  middle  West,  but  it  was  music  to  Clementina, 
who  heard  now  and  then  a  tone  of  her  lover  in  his 
sister's  voice.  In  the  midst  of  it  all  she  caught  sight 
of  a  mute  unfriended  figure  just  without  their  circle, 
his  traveling  shawl  hanging  loose  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  the  valise  which  had  formed  his  sole  baggage  in 
the  voyage  to  and  from  Europe  pulling  his  long  hand 
out  of  his  coat  sleeve. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  here  is  Mr.  Osson  that  came 
ova  with  me,  fatha;  he's  a  relation  of  Mr.  Landa's," 
and  she  presented  him  to  them  all. 

He  shifted  his  valise  to  the  left  hand,  and  shook 
hands  with  each,  asking,  "What  name?"  and  then 
fell  motionless  again. 

"  Well,"  said  her  father,  "  I  guess  this  is  the  end 
of  this  paht  of  the  ceremony,  and  I'm  goin'  to  see 
your  baggage  through  the  custom-house,  Clementina; 
I've  read  about  it,  and  I  want  to  know  how  it's  done. 
I  want  to  see  what  you  ah'  tryin'  to  smuggle  in." 

"  I  guess  you  won't  find  much,"  she  said.  "  But 
you'll  want  the  keys,  won't  you  ? "  She  called  to  him, 
as  he  was  stalking  away. 

"  Well,  I  guess  that  would  be  a  good  idea.  Want 
to  help,  MissHinkle?" 


330  RAGGED  LADY. 

"  I  guess  we  might  as  well  all  lielp,"  said  Clemen 
tina,  and  Mr.  Orson  included  himself  in  the  invitation. 
He  seemed  unable  to  separate  himself  from  them, 
though  the  passage  of  Clementina's  baggage  through 
the  customs,  and  its  delivery  to  an  expressman  for  the 
hotel  where  the  Hinkles  said  they  were  staying  might 
well  have  severed  the  last  tie  between  them. 

"  Ah7  you  going  straight  home,  Mr.  Osson  ? "  she 
asked,  to  rescue  him  from  the  f orgetf ulness  into  which 
they  were  all  letting  him  fall. 

"  I  think  I  will  remain  over  a  day,"  he  answered. 
"  I  may  go  on  to  Boston  before  starting  West." 

"  Well,  that's  right,"  said  Clementina's  father  with 
the  wish  to  approve  everything  native  to  him,  and  an 
instinctive  sense  of  Clementina's  wish  to  befriend  the 
minister.  "  Betta  come  to  oua  hotel.  We're  all  goin' 
to  the  same  one." 

"  I  presume  it  is  a  good  one  ?  "  Mr.  Orson  assented. 

"  Well,"  said  Claxon,  "  you  must  make  Miss  Hin- 
kle,  he'a,  stand  it  if  it  ain't.  She's  got  me  to  go  to 
it." 

Mr.  Orson  apparently  could  not  enter  into  the  joke ; 
but  he  accompanied  the  party,  which  again  began  to 
forget  him,  across  the  ferry  and  up  the  elevated  road 
to  the  street  car  that  formed  the  last  stage  of  their 
progress  to  the  hotel.  At  this  point  George's  sister 
fell  silent,  and  Clementina's  father  burst  out,  "  Look 
he'a  !  I  guess  we  betta  not  keep  this  up  any  longa ; 
I  don't  believe  much  in  supprises,  and  I  guess  she 
betta  know  it  now." 

He  looked  at  George's  sister  as  if  for  authority  to 


RAGGED    LADY.  331 

speak  further,  and  Clementina  looked  at  her,  too, 
while  George's  father  nervously  moistened  his  smiling 
lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  and  let  his  twinkling 
eyes  rest  upon  Clementina's  face. 

"  Is  he  at  the  hotel  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  his  sister,  monosyllabic  for  once. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Clementina,  and  she  was  only 
half  aware  of  the  fullness  with  which  his  sister  now 
explained  how  he  wanted  to  come  so  much  that  the 
doctor  thought  he  had  better,  but  that  they  had  made 
him  promise  he  would  not  try  to  meet  her  at  the 
steamer,  lest  it  should  be  too  great  a  trial  of  his 
strength. 

"Yes,"  Clementina  assented,  when  the  story  came 
to  an  end  and  was  beginning  over  again. 

She  had  an  inexplicable  moment  when  she  stood 
before  her  lover  in  the  room  where  they  left  her  to 
meet  him  alone.  She  faltered  and  he  waited  con 
strained  by  her  constraint. 

"  Is  it  all  a  mistake,  Clementina  ? "  he  asked,  with 
a  piteous  smile. 

"  No,  no  !  " 

"  Am  I  so  much  changed  ? " 

"No;  you  are  looking  betta  than  I  expected" — 

"  And  you  are  not  sorry — for  anything  ? " 

"  No,  I  am —  Perhaps  I  have  thought  of  you  too 
much !  It  seems  so  strange." 

"I  understand,"  he  answered.  "We  have  been 
like  spirits  to  each  other,  and  now  we  find  that  we  are 
alive  and  on  the  earth  like  other  people ;  and  we  are 
not  used  to  it." 


332  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  It  must  be  something  like  that." 

"  But  if  it's  something  else — if  you  have  the  least 
regret, — if  you  would  rather  " — He  stopped,  and  they 
remained  looking  at  each  other  a  moment.  Then  she 
turned  her  head,  and  glanced  out  of  the  window,  as  if 
something  there  had  caught  her  sight. 

"  It's  a  very  pleasant  view,  isn't  it  ? "  she  said ;  and 
she  lifted  her  hands  to  her  head,  and  took  off  her  hat, 
with  an  effect  of  having  got  home  after  absence,  to 
stay. 


XXXVIII. 

IT  was  possibly  through  some  sense  finer  than  any 
cognition  that  Clementina  felt  in  meeting  her  lover 
that  she  had  taken  up  a  new  burden  rather  than  laid 
down  an  old  one.  Afterwards,  when  they  once  re 
curred  to  that  meeting,  and  she  tried  to  explain  for 
him  the  hesitation  which  she  had  not  been  able  to 
hide,  she  could  only  say,  "  I  presume  I  didn't  want  to 
begin  unless  I  was  sure  I  could  carry  out.  It  would 
have  been  silly." 

Her  confession,  if  it  was  a  confession,  was  made 
when  one  of  his  returns  to  health,  or  rather  one  of  the 
arrests  of  his  unhealth,  flushed  them  with  hope  and 
courage ;  but  before  that  first  meeting  was  ended  she 
knew  that  lie  had  overtasked  his  strength,  in  coming 
to  New  York,  and  he  must  not  try  it  further.  "Fa- 
tha,"  she  said  to  Claxon,  with  the  authority  of  a  wo 
man  doing  her  duty,  "  I'm  not  going  to  let  Geo'ge  go 
up  to  Middlemount,  with  all  the  excitement.  It  will 
be  as  much  as  he  can  do  to  get  home.  You  can  tell 
mother  about  it ;  and  the  rest.  I  did  suppose  it  would 
be  Mr.  Richling  that  would  marry  us,  and  I  always 
wanted  him  to,  but  I  guess  somebody  else  can  do  it 
as  well." 


334  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  Just  as  you  say,  Clem,"  her  father  assented. 
"  Why  not  Brother  Osson,  he'a  ? "  he  suggested  with 
a  pleasure  in  the  joke,  whatever  it  was,  that  the  min 
ister's  relation  to  Clementina  involved.  "  I  guess  he 
can  put  off  his  visit  to  Boston  long  enough." 

"  Well,  I  was  thinking  of  him,"  said  Clementina. 
"  Will  you  ask  him  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I'll  get  round  to  it,  in  the  mohning." 

"  No — now ;  right  away.  I've  been  talking  with 
Geo'ge  about  it;  and  the'e's  no  sense  in  putting  it  off. 
I  ought  to  begin  taking  care  of  him  at  once." 

"  Well,  I  guess  when  I  tell  your  motha  how  you're 
layin'  hold,  she  won't  think  it's  the  same  pusson," 
said  her  father,  proudly. 

"  But  it  is ;  I  haven't  changed  a  bit." 

"  You  ha'n't  changed  for  the  wohse,  anyway." 

"  Didn't  I  always  try  to  do  what  I  had  to  ?  " 

"I  guess  you  did,  Clem." 

"Well,  then!" 

Mr.  Orson,  after  a  decent  hesitation,  consented  to 
perform  the  ceremony.  It  took  place  in  a  parlor  of 
the  hotel,  according  to  the  law  of  New  York,  which 
facilitates  marriage  so  greatly  in  all  respects  that  it  is 
strange  any  one  in  the.  State  should  remain  single. 
He  had  then  a  luxury  of  choice  between  attaching 
himself  to  the  bridal  couple  as  far  as  Ohio  on  his 
journey  home  to  Michigan,  or  to  Claxon  who  was  go 
ing  to  take  the  boat  for  Boston  the  next  day  on  his 
way  to  Middlemount.  He  decided  for  Claxon,  since 
he  could  then  see  Mrs.  Lander's  lawyer  at  once,  and 
arrange  with  him  for  getting  out  of  the  vice-consul's 


BAGGED    LADY.  335 

hands  the  money  which  he  was  holding  for  an  author 
itative  demand.  He  accepted  without  open  reproach 
the  handsome  fee  which  the  elder  Hinkle  gave  him 
for  his  services,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say,  "  If 
your  son  should  ever  be  blest  with  a  return  to  health, 
he  has  got  a  helpmeet  such  as  there  are  very  few  of." 
He  then  admonished  the  young  couple,  in  whatever 
trials  life  should  have  in  store  for  them,  to  be  re 
signed,  and  always  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst. 
When  he  came  later  to  take  leave  of  them,  he  was 
apparently  not  equal  to  the  task  of  fitly  acknowledg 
ing  the  return  which  Hinkle  made  him  of  all  the 
money  remaining  to  Clementina  out  of  the  sum  last 
given  her  by  Mrs.  Lander,  but  he  hid  any  disappoint 
ment  he  might  have  suffered,  and  with  a  brief,  "Thank 
you,"  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

Hinkle  told  Clementina  of  the  apathetic  behavior 
of  Mr.  Orson ;  he  added  with  a  laugh  like  his  old  self, 
"  It's  the  best  that  he  doesn't  seem  prepared  for." 

"Yes,"  she  assented.  "He  wasn't  very  chee'ful. 
But  I  presume  that  he  meant  well.  It  must  be  a  trial 
for  him  to  find  out  that  Mrs.  Landa  wasn't  rich,  after 
all." 

It  was  apparently  never  a  trial  to  her.  She  went  to 
Ohio  with  her  husband  and  took  up  her  life  on  the 
farm,  where  it  was  wisely  judged  that  he  had  the  best 
chance  of  working  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  health  and 
strength.  There  was  often  the  promise  and  always 
the  hope  of  this,  and  their  love  knew  no  doubt  of  the 
future.  Her  sisters-in-law  delighted  in  all  her  strange 
ness  and  difference,  while  they  petted  her  as  some- 


336  RAGGED    LADY. 

thing  not  to  be  separated  from  him  in  their  petting  of 
their  brother ;  to  his  mother  she  was  the  darling  which 
her  youngest  had  never  ceased  to  be  ;  Clementina  once 
went  so  far  as  to  say  to  him  that  if  she  was  ever  any 
thing  she  would  like  to  be  a  Moravian. 

The  question  of  religion  was  always  related  in  their 
minds  to  the  question  of  Gregory,  to  whom  they  did 
justice  in  their  trust  of  each  other.  It  was  Hinkle 
himself  who  reasoned  out  that  if  Gregory  was  narrow, 
his  narrowness  was  of  his  conscience  and  not  of  his 
heart  or  his  mind.  She  respected  the  memory  of  her 
first  lover ;  but  it  was  as  if  he  were  dead,  now,  as  well 
as  her  young  dream  of  him,  and  she  read  with  a  curi 
ous  sense  of  remoteness,  a  paragraph  which  her  hus 
band  found  in  the  religious  intelligence  of  his  Sunday 
paper,  announcing  the  marriage  of  the  Rev.  Frank 
Gregory  to  a  lady  described  as  having  been  a  frequent 
and  bountiful  contributor  to  the  foreign  missions. 
She  was  apparently  a  widow,  and  they  conjectured 
that  she  was  older  than  he.  His  departure  for  his 
chosen  field  of  missionary  labor  in  China  formed  part 
of  the  news  communicated  by  the  rather  exulting  par 
agraph. 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right,"  said  Clementina's  hus 
band.  "  He  is  a  good  man,  and  he  is  where  he  can 
do  nothing  but  good.  I  am  glad  I  needn't  feel  sorry 
for  him,  any  more." 

Clementina's  father  must  have  given  such  a  report 
of  Hinkle  and  his  family,  that  they  felt  easy  at  home 
in  leaving  her  to  the  lot  she  had  chosen.  When 
Claxon  parted  from  her,  he  talked  of  coming  out  with 


BAGGED    LADY.  337 

her  mother  to  see  her  that  fall ;  but  it  was  more  than 
a  year  before  they  got  round  to  it.  They  did  n$t 
come  till  after  the  birth  of  her  little  girl,  and  her 
father  then  humorously  allowed  that  perhaps  they 
would  not  have  got  round  to  it  at  all  if  something  of 
the  kind  had  not  happened.  The  Hinkles  and  her 
father  and  mother  liked  one  another,  so  much  that  in 
the  first  glow  of  his  enthusiasm  Claxon  talked  of  set 
tling  down  in  Ohio,  and  the  older  Hinkle  drove  him 
about  to  look  at  some  places  that  were  for  sale.  But 
it  ended  in  his  saying  one  day  that  he  missed  the  hills, 
and  he  did  not  believe  that  he  would  know  enough  to 
come  in  when  it  rained  if  he  did  not  see  old  Middle- 
mount  with  his  nightcap  on  first.  His  wife  and  he 
started  home  with  the  impatience  of  their  years,  rather 
earlier  than  they  had  meant  to  go,  and  they  were 
silent  for  a  little  while  after  they  left  the  flag-station 
where  Hinkle  and  Clementina  had  put  them  aboard 
their  train. 

"  Well  ? "  said  Claxon,  at  last. 

"  Well  ? "  echoed  his  wife,  and  then  she  did  not 
speak  for  a  little  while  longer.  At  last  she  asked, 
"  D'he  look  that  way  when  you  fust  see  him  in  New 
Yo'k  ? " 

Claxon  gave  his  honesty  time  to  get  the  better  of 
his  optimism.  Even  then  he  answered  evasively,  "  He 
doos  look  pootty  slim." 

"  The  way  I  cypher  it  out,"  said  his  wife,  "  he  no 
business  to  let  her  marry  him,  if  he  wa'n't  goin'  to 
get  well.     It  was  throwin'  of  herself  away,  as  you 
may  say." 
V 


338  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Claxon,  as  if  the 
point  had  occurred  to  him,  too,  and  had  been  already 
argued  in  his  mind.  "  I  guess  they  must  'a'  had  it 
out,  there  in  New  York  before  they  got  married — or 
she  had.  I  don't  believe  but  what  he  expected  to  get 
well,  right  away.  It's  the  kind  of  a  thing  that  lingas 
along,  and  lingas  along.  As  fah  fo'th  as  Clem  went, 
I  guess  there  wa'n't  any  let  about  it.  I  guess  she'd 
made  up  her  mind  from  the  staht,  and  she  was  goin' 
to  have  him  if  she  had  to  hold  him  on  his  feet  to  do 
it.  Look  he'a  !  What  would  you  done  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  presume  we're  all  fools  !  "  said  Mrs.  Claxon, 
impatient  of  a  sex  not  always  so  frank  with  itself. 
"  But  that  don't  excuse  him" 

"  I  don't  say  it  doos,"  her  husband  admitted.  "  But 
I  presume  he  was  expectin'  to  get  well  right  away, 
then.  And  I  don't  believe,"  he  added,  energetically, 
"  but  what  he  will,  yet.  As  I  undastand,  there  ain't 
anything  ogganic  about  him.  It's  just  this  he'e  nuv- 
vous  prostration,  resultin'  from  shock,  his  docta  tells 
me  ;  and  he'll  wo'k  out  of  that  all  right." 

They  said  no  more,  and  Mrs.  Claxon  did  not  recur 
to  any  phase  of  the  situation  till  she  undid  the  lunch 
which  the  Hinkles  had  put  up  for  them,  and  laid  out 
on  the  napkin  in  her  lap  the  portions  of  cold  ham  and 
cold  chicken,  the  buttered  biscuit,  and  the  little  pot 
of  apple-butter,  with  the  large  bottle  of  cold  coffee. 
Then  she  sighed,  "  They  live  well." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  husband,  glad  of  any  concession, 
"  and  they  ah'  good  folks.  And  Clem's  as  happy  as 
a  bud  with  'em,  you  can  see  that." 


RAGGED    LADY.  339 

"  Oil,  she  was  always  happy  enough,  if  that's  all  you 
want.  I  presume  she  was  happy  with  that  hectorin' 
old  thing  that  fooled  her  out  of  her  money." 

"I  ha'n't  ever  regretted  that  money,  Rebecca,"  said 
Claxon,  stiffly,  almost  sternly,  "  and  I  guess  you  a'n't, 
eitha." 

"I  don't  sayj  have,"  retorted  Mrs.  Claxon.  "  But 
I  don't  like  to  be  made  a  fool  of.  I  presume,"  she 
added,  remotely,  but  not  so  irrelevantly,  "Clem  could 
ha'  got  'most  anybody,  ova  the'a." 

"  Well,"  said  Claxon,  taking  refuge  in  the  joke,  "  I 
shouldn't  want  her  to  marry  a  crowned  head,  myself." 

It  was  Clementina  who  drove  the  clay-bank  colt 
away  from  the  station  after  the  train  had  passed  out 
of  sight.  Her  husband  sat  beside  her,  and  let  her 
take  the  reins  from  his  nerveless  grasp;  and  when 
they  got  into  the  shelter  of  the  piece  of  woods  that 
the  road  passed  through  he  put  up  his  hands  to  his 
face,  and  broke  into  sobs.  She  allowed  him  to  weep 
on,  though  she  kept  saying,  "  Geo'ge,  Geo'ge,"  softly, 
and  stroking  his  knee  with  the  hand  next  him.  When 
his  sobbing  stopped,  she  said,  "  I  guess  they've  had 
a  pleasant  visit ;  but  I'm  glad  we'a  together  again." 
He  took  up  her  hand  and  kissed  the  back  of  it,  and 
then  clutched  it  hard,  but  did  not  speak.  "It's 
strange,"  she  went  on,  "  how  I  used  to  be  home-sick 
for  father  and  motha  " —  she  had  sometimes  lost  her 
Yankee  accent  in  her  association  with  his  people,  and 
spoke  with  their  Western  burr,  but  she  found  it  in 
moments  of  deeper  feeling — "when  I  was  there  in 
Europe,  and  now  I'm  glad  to  have  them  go.  I  don't 


340  11AGGED    LADY. 

want  anybody  to  be  between  us ;  and  I  want  to  go 
back  to  just  the  way  we  we'e  befo'c  they  came.  It's 
been  a  strain  on  you,  and  now  you  must  throw  it  all 
off  and  rest,  and  get  up  your  strength.  One  thing,  I 
could  see  that  fatha  noticed  the  gain  you  had  made 
since  he  saw  you  in  New  Yo'k.  He  spoke  about  it  to 
me  the  fust  thing,  and  he  feels  just  the  way  I  do 
about  it.  He  don't  want  you  to  hurry  and  get  well, 
but  take  it  slowly,  and  not  excite  yourself.  He  be 
lieves  in  your  gleaner,  and  he  knows  all  about 
machinery.  He  says  the  patent  makes  it  puffectly 
safe,  and  you  can  take  your  own  time  about  pushing 
it;  it's  su'a  to  go.  And  motha  liked  you.  She's  not 
one  to  talk  a  great  deal — she  always  leaves  that  to 
father  and  me — but  she's  got  deep  feelings,  and  she 
just  worshipped  the  baby  !  I  neva  saw  her  take  a 
child  in  her  ahms  before  ;  but  she  seemed  to  want  to 
hold  the  baby  all  the  time."  She  stopped,  and  then 
added,  tenderly,  "  Now,  I  know  what  you  ah'  thinking 
about,  Geo'ge,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  think  about  it 
any  more.  If  you  do,  I  shall  give  up." 

They  had  come  to  a  bad  piece  of  road  where  a 
slough  of  thick  mud  forced  the  wagon-way  over  the 
stumps  of  a  turnout  in  the  woods.  "  You  had  better 
let  me  have  the  reins,  Clementina,"  he  said.  He 
drove  home  over  the  yellow  leaves  of  the  hickories 
and  the  crimson  leaves  of  the  maples,  that  heavy  with 
the  morning  dew,  fell  slanting  through  the  still  air; 
and  on  the  way  he  began  to  sing ;  his  singing  made 
her  heart  ache.  His  father  came  out  to  put  up  the 
colt  for  him ;  and  Hinkle  would  not  have  his  help. 


RAGGED    LADY.  341 

He  unhitched  the  colt  himself,  while  his  father  trembled 
by  with  bent  knees  ;  he  clapped  the  colt  on  the  haunch 
and  started  him  through  the  pasture-bars  with  a  gay 
shout,  and  then  put  his  arm  round  Clementina's  waist, 
and  walked  her  into  the  kitchen  amidst  the  grins  of  his 
mother  and  sisters,  who  said  he  ought  to  be  ashamed. 

The  winter  passed,  and  in  the  spring  he  was  not  so 
well  as  he  had  been  in  the  fall.  It  was  the  out-door 
life  which  was  best  for  him,  and  he  picked  up  again 
in  the  summer.  When  another  autumn  came,  it  was 
thought  best  for  him  not  to  risk  the  confinement  of 
another  winter  in  the  North.  The  prolongation  of 
the  summer  in  the  South  would  complete  his  cure, 
and  Clementina  took  her  baby  and  went  with  him  to 
Florida.  He  was  very  well,  there,  and  courageous 
letters  came  to  Middlemount  and  Ohio,  boasting  of 
the  gains  he  had  made.  One  day  toward  spring  he 
came  in  languid  from  the  damp,  unnatural  heat,  and 
the  next  day  he  had  a  fever,  which  the  doctor  would 
not,  in  a  resort  absolutely  free  from  malaria,  pronounce 
malarial.  After  it  had  once  declared  itself,  in  com 
pliance  with  this  reluctance,  a  simple  fever,  Hinkle 
was  delirious,  and  he  never  knew  Clementina  again 
for  the  mother  of  his  child.  They  were  once  more  at 
Venice  in  his  ravings,  and  he  wras  j-easoning  with  her 
that  Bel  sky  was  not  drowned. 

The  mystery  of  his  malady  deepened  into  the  mys 
tery  of  his  death.  AVith  that  his  look  of  health  and 
youth  came  back,  and  as  she  gazed  upon  his  gentle 
face,  it  wore  to  her  the  smile  of  quaint  sweetness  that 
she  had  seen  it  wear  the  first  night  it  won  her  fancy 
at  Miss  Milray's  house  in  Florence. 


XXXIX. 

Six  years  after  Miss  Milray  parted  with  Clemen 
tina  in  Venice  she  found  herself,  towards  the  close 
of  the  summer,  at  Middlemount.  She  had  definitely 
ceased  to  live  in  Florence,  where  she  had  meant  to 
die,  and  had  come  home  to  close  her  eyes.  She  was 
in  no  haste  to  do  this,  and  in  the  meantime  she  was 
now  at  Middlemount  with  her  brother,  who  had  ex 
pressed  a  wish  to  revisit  the  place  in  memory  of  Mrs. 
Milray.  It  was  the  second  anniversary  of  her  divorce, 
which  had  remained,  after  a  married  life  of  many 
vicissitudes,  almost  the  only  experience  untried  in 
that  relation,  and  which  had  been  happily  accom 
plished  in  the  courts  of  Dacotah,  upon  grounds  that 
satisfied  the  facile  justice  of  that  State.  Milray  had 
dealt  handsomely  with  his  widow,  as  he  unresentfully 
called  her,  and  the  money  he  assigned  her  was  of  a 
destiny  perhaps  as  honored  as  its  origin.  She  em 
ployed  it  in  the  negotiation  of  a  second  marriage,  in 
which  she  redressed  the  balance  of  her  first  by  taking 
a  husband  somewhat  younger  than  herself. 

Both  Milray  and  his  sister  had  a  wish  which  was 
much  more  than  a  curiosity  to  know  what  had  become 


RAGGED    LADY.  343 

of  Clementina ;  they  had  heard  that  her  husband  was 
dead,  and  that  she  had  come  back  to  Middlemount ; 
and  Miss  Milray  was  going  to  the  office,  the  afternoon 
following  their  arrival,  to  ask  the  landlord  about  her, 
when  she  was  arrested  at  the  door  of  the  ball-room  by 
a  sight  that  she  thought  very  pretty.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  room,  clearly  defined  against  the  long  windows 
behind  her,  stood  the  figure  of  a  lady  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor.  In  rows  on  either  side  sat  little  girls 
and  little  boys  who  left  their  places  one  after  another, 
and  turned  at  the  door  to  make  their  manners  to  her. 
In  response  to  each  obeisance  the  lady  dropped  a 
curtsey,  now  to  this  side,  now  to  that,  taking  her  skirt 
between  her  finger  tips  on  either  hand  and  spreading 
it  delicately,  with  a  certain  elegance  of  movement,  and 
a  grace  that  was  full  of  poetry,  and  to  Miss  Milray, 
somehow,  full  of  pathos.  There  remained  to  the  end 
a  small  mite  of  a  girl,  who  was  the  last  to  leave  her 
place  and  bow  to  the  lady.  She  did  not  quit  the 
room  then,  like  the  others,  but  advanced  toward  the 
lady  who  came  to  meet  her,  and  lifted  her  and  clasped 
her  to  her  breast  with  a  kind  of  passion.  She  walked 
down  toward  the  door  where  Miss  Milray  stood,  gently 
drifting  over  the  polished  floor,  as  if  still  moved  by 
the  music  that  had  ceased,  and  as  she  drew  near,  Miss 
Milray  gave  a  cry  of  joy,  and  ran  upon  her.  "  Why, 
Clementina ! "  she  screamed,  and  caught  her  and  the 
child  both  in  her  arms. 

She  began  to  weep,  but  Clementina  smiled  instead 
of  weeping,  as  she  always  used  to  do.  She  returned 
Miss  Milray's  affectionate  greeting  with  a  tenderness 


344  RAGGED    LADY. 

as  great  as  her  own,  but  with  a  sort  of  authority,  such 
as  sometimes  comes  to  those  who  have  suffered.  She 
quieted  the  older  woman  with  her  own  serenity,  and 
met  the  torrent  of  her  questions  with  as  many  answers 
as  their  rush  permitted,  when  they  were  both  pres 
ently  in  Miss  Milray's  room  talking  in  their  old  way. 
From  time  to  time  Miss  Milray  broke  from  the  talk  to 
kiss  the  little  girl,  whom  she  declared  to  be  Clemen 
tina  all  over  again,  and  then  returned  to  her  better 
behavior  with  an  effect  of  shame  for  her  want  of  self- 
control,  as  if  Clementina's  mood  had  abashed  her. 
Sometimes  this  was  almost  severe  in  its  quiet ;  that 
was  her  mother  coming  to  her  share  in  her ;  but  again 
she  was  like  her  father,  full  of  the  sunny  gayety  of 
self-forgetfulness,  and  then  Miss  Milray  said,  "  Now 
you  are  the  old  Clementina  ! " 

Upon  the  whole  she  listened  with  few  interruptions 
to  the  story  which  she  exacted.  It  was  mainly  what 
we  know.  After  her  husband's  death  Clementina  had 
gone  back  to  his  family  for  a  time,  and  each  year 
since  she  had  spent  part  of  the  winter  with  them ;  but 
it  was  very  lonesome  for  her,  and  she  began  to  be 
home-sick  for  Middlemount.  They  saw  it  and  con 
sidered  it.  "  They  ah'  the  best  people,  Miss  Milray  !  " 
she  said,  and  her  voice,  which  was  firm  when  she 
spoke  of  her  husband,  broke  in  the  words  of  minor 
feeling.  Besides  being  a  little  homesick,  she  ended, 
she  was  not  willing  to  live  on  there,  doing  nothing 
for  herself,  and  so  she  had  come  back. 

"  And  you  are  here,  doing  just  what  you  planned 
when  you  talked  your  life  over  with  me  in  Venice ! " 


RAGGED    LADY.  345 

"  Yes,  but  life  isn't  eva  just  what  we  plan  it  to  be, 
Miss  Milray." 

"  Ah,  don't  I  know  it !  " 

Clementina  surprised  Miss  Milray  by  adding,  "  In 
a  great  many  things — I  don't  know  but  in  most — it's 
better.  I  don't  complain  of  mine  " — 

"  You  poor  child  !  You  never  complained  of  any 
thing — not  even  of  Mrs.  Lander  !  " 

"  But  it's  different  from  what  I  expected ;  and  it's — 
strange." 

"Yes;  life  is  very  strange." 

"  I  don't  mean — losing  him.  That  had  to  be.  I 
can  see,  now,  that  it  had  to  be  almost  from  the  begin 
ning.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  knew  it  had  to  be  from 
the  fust  minute  I  saw  him  in  Xevv  Yo'k ;  but  he  didn't, 
and  I  am  glad  of  that.  Except  when  he  was  getting 
wohse,  he  always  believed  he  should  get  well ;  and  he 
was  getting  well,  when  he  " — 

Miss  Milray  did  not  violate  the  pause  she  made 
with  any  question,  though  it  was  apparent  that  Clem 
entina  had  something  on  her  mind  that  she  wished  to 
say,  and  could  hardly  say  of  herself. 

She  began  again,  "  I  was  glad  through  everything 
that  I  could  live  with  him  so  long.  If  there  is  noth 
ing  moa,  here  or  anywhe'a,  that  was  something.  But 
it  is  strange.  Sometimes  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  it  had 
happened." 

"  I  think  I  can  understand,  Clementina." 

"  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I  hadn't  happened  myself." 
She  stopped,  with  a  patient  little  sigh,  and  passed  her 
hand  across  the  child's  forehead,  in  a  mother's  fashion, 


346  RAGGED    LADY. 

and  smoothed  her  hair  from  it,  bending  over  to  look 
down  into  her  face.  "  We  think  she  has  her  fatha's 
eyes,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  she  has,"  Miss  Milray  assented,  noting  the 
upward  slant  of  the  child's  eyes,  which  gave  his  quaint- 
ness  to  her  beauty.  "  He  had  fascinating  eyes." 

After  a  moment  Clementina  asked,  "  Do  you  believe 
that  the  looks  are  all  that  ah'  left  ? " 

Miss  Milray  reflected.  "  I  know  what  you  mean. 
I  should  say  character  was  left,  and  personality — 
somewhere." 

"  I  used  to  feel  as  if  it  we'e  left  here,  at  fust — as 
if  he  must  come  back.  But  that  had  to  go." 

"  Yes." 

"  Everything  seems  to  go.  After  a  while  even  the 
loss  of  him  seemed  to  go." 

"  Yes,  losses  go  with  the  rest." 

"  That's  what  I  mean  by  its  seeming  as  if  it  never 
any  of  it  happened.  Some  things  before  it  are  a  great 
deal  more  real." 

"  Little  things  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly.  But  things  when  I  was  very  young." 
Miss  Milray  did  not  know  quite  what  she  intended, 
but  she  knew  that  Clementina  was  feeling  her  way  to 
something  she  wanted  to  say,  and  she  let  her  alone. 
"  When  it  was  all  over,  and  I  knew  that  as  long  as  I 
lived  he  would  be  somewhere  else,  I  tried  to  be  paht 
of  the  wo'ld  I  was  left  in.  Do  you  think  that  was 
right?" 

"  It  was  wise ;  and,  yes,  it  was  best"  said  Miss 
Milray,  and  for  relief  from  the  tension  which  was 


RAGGED    LADY.  347 

beginning  to  tell  upon  her  own  nerves,  she  asked,  "  I 
suppose  you  know  about  my  poor  brother  ?  I'd  bet 
ter  tell  you  to  keep  you  from  asking  for  Mrs.  Milray, 
though  I  don't  know  that  it's  so  very  painful  with 
him.  There  isn't  any  Mrs.  Milray  now,"  she  added, 
and  she  explained  why. 

Neither  of  them  cared  for  Mrs.  Milray,  and  they 
did  not  pretend  to  be  concerned  about  her,  but  Clem 
entina  said,  vaguely,  as  if  in  recognition  of  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray's  latest  experiment,  "  Do  you  believe  in  second 
marriages  ? " 

Miss  Milray  laughed,  "  Well,  not  that  kind  exactly." 

"  No,"  Clementina  assented,  and  she  colored  a  little. 

Miss  Milray  was  moved  to  add,  "  But  if  you  mean 
another  kind,  I  don't  see  why  not.  My  own  mother 
was  married  twice." 

"  Was  she  ?  "  Clementina  looked  relieved  and  en 
couraged,  but  she  did  not  say  any  more  at  once.  Then 
she  asked,  "  Do  you  know  what  ever  became  of  Mr. 
Belsky  ? " 

"  Yes.  He's  taken  his  title  again,  and  gone  back 
to  live  in  Russia ;  he's  made  peace  with  the  Czar,  I 
believe." 

"  That's  nice,"  said  Clementina ;  and  Miss  Milray 
made  bold  to  ask : 

"  And  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Gregory  ? " 

Clementina  answered,  as  Miss  Milray  thought,  ten 
tatively  and  obliquely  :  "  You  know  his  wife  died." 

"  No,  I  never  knew  that  she  lived." 

"  Yes.  They  went  out  to  China,  and  she  died 
the'a." 


348  RAGGED    LADY. 

"  And  is  lie  there  yet?  But  of  course  !  He  could 
never  have  given  up  being  a  missionary." 

"  Well,"  said  Clementina,  "  he  isn't  in  China.  His 
health  gave  out,  and  he  had  to  come  home.  He's  in — 
Middlemount  Ccnta." 

Miss  Milray  suppressed  the  "  Oh !  "  that  all  but 
broke  from  her  lips.  "  Preaching  to  the  heathen, 
there  ?  "  she  temporized. 

"  To  the  summa  folks,"  Clementina  explained,  inno 
cent  of  satire.  "  They  have  got  a  Union  Chapel  the'a, 
now,  and  Mr.  Gregory  has  been  preaching  all  summa." 
There  seemed  nothing  more  that  Miss  Milray  could 
prompt  her  to  say,  but  it  was  not  quite  with  surprise 
that  she  heard  Clementina  continue,  as  if  it  were  part 
of  the  explanation,  and  followed  from  the  fact  she  had 
stated,  "  He  wants  me  to  marry  him." 

Miss  Milray  tried  to  emulate  her  calm  in  asking, 
"  And  shall  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  told  him  I  would  see;  he  only 
asked  me  last  ni^ht.  It  would  be  kind  of  natural.  He 

O 

was  the  fust.      You  may  think  it  is  strange  " — 

Miss  Milray,  in  the  superstition  of  her  old-maiden 
hood  concerning  love,  really  thought  it  cold-blooded 
and  shocking;  but  she  said,  "Oh,  no." 

Clementina  resumed :  "  And  he  says  that  if  it  was 
right  for  me  to  stop  caring  for  him  when  I  did,  it  is 
right  now  for  me  to  ca'e  for  him  again,  where  the'e's 
no  one  to  be  hu't  by  it.  Do  you  think  it  is  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  why  not  ?  "  Miss  Milray  was  forced  to  the 
admission  against  what  she  believed  the  finer  feelings 
of  her  nature. 


RAGGED    LADY.  349 

Clementina  sighed,  "  I  suppose  he's  right.  I  always 
thought  he  was  good.  Women  don't  seem  to  belong 
very  much  to  themselves  in  this  wo'ld,  do  they  ? " 

"  No,  they  seem  to  belong  to  the  men,  either  be 
cause  they  want  the  men,  or  the  men  want  them ;  it 
comes  to  the  same  thing.  I  suppose  you  don't  wish 
me  to  advise  you,  my  dear  ? " 

"  No.  I  presume  it's  something  I've  got  to  think 
out  for  myself." 

"But  I  think  he's  good,  too.  I  ought  to  say  that 
much,  for  I  didn't  always  stand  his  friend  with  you.  If 
Mr.  Gregory  has  any  fault  it's  being  too  scrupulous." 

"  You  mean,  about  that  old  trouble — our  not  be 
lieving  just  the  same  ? "  Miss  Milray  meant  some 
thing  much  more  temperamental  than  that,  but  she 
allowed  Clementina  to  limit  her  meaning,  and  Clem 
entina  went  on.  "  He's  changed  all  round  now.  He 
thinks  it's  all  in  the  life.  He  says  that  in  China  they 
couldn't  understand  what  he  believed,  but  they  could 
what  he  lived.  And  he  knows  I  neva  could  be  very 
religious." 

It  was  in  Miss  Milray's  heart  to  protest,  "  Clemen 
tina,  I  think  you  are  one  of  the  most  religious  persons 
I  ever  knew,"  but  she  forebore,  because  the  praise 
seemed  to  her  an  invasion  of  Clementina's  dignity. 
She  merely  said,  "  Well,  I  am  glad  he  is  one  of  those 
who  grow  more  liberal  as  they  grow  older.  That  is  a 
good  sign  for  your  happiness.  But  I  dare  say  it's 
more  of  his  happiness  you  think." 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  to  be  happy,  too.  There  would 
be  no  sense  in  it  if  I  wasn't." 


350  RAGGED  LADY. 

"  No,  certainly  not." 

"Miss  Milray,"  said  Clementina,  with  a  kind  of 
abruptness,  "  do  you  eva  hear  anything  from  Dr. 
Welwright  ?" 

"No!  Why?"  Miss  Milray  fastened  her  gaze 
vividly  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  He  wanted  me  to  promise  him, 
there  in  Venice,  too." 

"  I  didn't  know  it." 

"  Yes.  But — I  couldn't,  then.  And  now — he's 
written  to  me.  He  wants  me  to  let  him  come  ova, 
and  see  me." 

"  And — and  will  you  ? "  asked  Miss  Milray,  rather 
breathlessly. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  as  I'd  ought.  I 
should  like  to  see  him,  so  as  to  be  puffectly  su'a.  But 
if  I  let  him  come,  and  then  didn't —  It  wouldn't  be 
right !  I  always  felt  as  if  I'd  ought  to  have  seen  then 
that  he  ca'ed  for  me,  and — stopped  him ;  but  I  didn't. 
No,  I  didn't,"  she  repeated,  nervously.  "  I  respected 
him,  and  I  liked  him;  but  I  neva  " —  She  stopped, 
and  then  she  asked,  "  What  do  you  think  I'd  ought 
to  do,  Miss  Milray  ?  " 

Miss  Milray  hesitated.  She  was  thinking  super 
ficially  that  she  had  never  heard  Clementina  say  had 
ought,  so  much,  if  ever  before.  Interiorly  she  was 
recurring  to  a  sense  of  something  like  all  this  before, 
and  to  the  feeling  which  she  had  then  that  Clementina 
was  really  cold-blooded  and  self-seeking.  But  she 
remembered  that  in  her  former  decision,  Clementina 
had  finally  acted  from  her  heart  and  her  conscience, 


RAGGED    LADY.  351 

and  she  rose  from  her  suspicion  with  a  rebound.  She 
dismissed  as  unworthy  of  Clementina  any  theory 
which  did  not  account  for  an  ideal  of  scrupulous  and 
unselfish  justice  in  her. 

*'  That  is  something  that  nobody  can  say  but  your 
self,  Clementina,"  she  answered,  gravely. 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Clementina,  "  I  presume  that  is  so." 

She  rose,  and  took  her  little  girl  from  Miss  Milray 's 
knee.  "Say  good-bye,"  she  bade,  looking  tenderly 
down  at  her. 

Miss  Milray  expected  the  child  to  put  up  her  lips 
to  be  kissed.  But  she  let  go  her  mother's  hand,  took 
her  tiny  skirts  between  her  finger-tips,  and  dropped  a 
curtsey. 

"  You  little  witch !  "  cried  Miss  Milray.  "  I  want 
a  hug,"  and  she  crushed  her  to  her  breast,  while  the 
child  twisted  her  face  round  and  anxiously  questioned 
her  mother's  for  her  approval.  "  Tell  her  it's  all  right, 
Clementina !  "  cried  Miss  Milray.  "  When  she's  as 
old  as  you  were  in  Florence,  I'm  going  to  make  you 
give  her  to  me." 

"  Ah'  you  going  back  to  Florence  ? "  asked  Clem 
entina,  provisionally. 

"  Oh,  no  !  You  can't  go  back  to  anything.  That's 
what  makes  New  York  so  impossible.  I  think  we 
shall  go  to  Los  Angeles." 


XL. 

ON  her  way  home  Clementina  met  a  man  walking 
swiftly  forward.  A  sort  of  impassioned  abstraction 
expressed  itself  in  his  gait  and  bearing.  They  had 
both  entered  the  shadow  of  the  deep  pine  woods  that 
flanked  the  way  on  either  side,  and  the  fallen  needles 
helped  with  the  velvety  summer  dust  of  the  roadway 
to  hush  their  steps  from  each  other.  She  saw  him 
far  off,  but  he  was  not  aware  of  her  till  she  was  quite 
near  him. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said,  with  a  start.  "  You  filled  my  mind 
so  full  that  I  couldn't  have  believed  you  were  any 
where  outside  of  it.  I  was  coming  to  get  you — I  was 
coming  to  get  my  answer." 

Gregory  had  grown  distinctly  older.  Sickness  and 
hardship  had  left  traces  in  his  wasted  face,  but  the 
full  beard  he  wore  helped  to  give  him  an  undue  look 
of  age. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Clementina,  slowly,  "  as  I've 
got  an  answa  fo'  you,  Mr.  Gregory — yet." 

"  No  answer  is  better  that  the  one  I  am  afraid  of !  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  she  said,  with  gentle 


RAGGED    LADY.  353 

perplexity,  as  slie  stood,  holding  the  hand  of  her  little 
girl,  who  stared  shyly  at  the  intense  face  of  the  man 
before  her. 

"  I  am,"  he  retorted.  "  I  have  been  thinking  it  all 
over,  Clementina.  I've  tried  not  to  think  selfishly 
about  it,  but  I  can't  pretend  that  my  wish  isn't  selfish. 
It  is !  I  want  you  for  myself,  and  because  I've  always 
wanted  you,  and  not  for  any  other  reason.  I  never 
cared  for  any  one  but  you  in  the  way  I  cared  for  you, 
and  "— 

"  Oh  !  "  she  grieved.  "  I  never  ca'ed  at  all  for  you 
after  I  saw  him" 

"  I  know  it  must  be  shocking  to  you ;  I  haven't  told 
you  with  any  wretched  hope  that  it  would  commend 
me  to  you  !  " 

"  I  don't  say  it  was  so  very  bad,"  said  Clementina, 
reflectively,  "  if  it  was  something  you  couldn't  help." 

"  It  was  something  I  couldn't  help.  Perhaps  I 
didn't  try." 

"Did — she  know  it?" 

"  She  knew  it  from  the  first ;  I  told  her  before  we 
were  married." 

Clementina  drew  back  a  little,  insensibly  pulling  her 
child  with  her.  "  I  don't  believe  I  exactly  like  it." 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't !  If  I  could  have  thought 
you  would,  I  hope  I  shouldn't  have  wished — and 
feared — so  much  to  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  always  wanted  to  do  what  you 
believed    was    right,    Mr.    Gregory,"    she     answered. 
"  But    I    haven't    quite    thought    it   out    yet.       You 
mustn't  hurry  me." 
W 


354  11AGGED    LADY. 

"  No,  no  !  Heaven  forbid."  He  stood  aside  to  let 
her  pass. 

"  I  was  just  going  home,"  she  added. 

"  May  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  to.  I  don't  know  but  you  bet- 
ta ;  we  might  as  well ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Don't 
you  think  it's  something  we  ought  to  talk  about — sen 
sibly  ?  " 

"Why,  of  course!  And  I  shall  try  to  be  guided 
by  you ;  I  should  always  submit  to  be  ruled  by  you, 
if"— 

"That's  not  what  I  mean,  exactly.  I, don't  want 
to  do  the  ruling.  You  don't  undastand  me." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't,"  he  assented,  humbly. 

"  If  you  did,  you  wouldn't  say  that — so."  He  did 
not  venture  to  make  any  answer,  and  they  walked  on 
without  speaking,  till  she  asked,  "  Did  you  know  that 
Miss  Milray  was  at  the  Middlcmount  ? " 

"  Miss  Milray  !     Of  Florence  ? " 

"  With  her  brother.  I  didn't  see  him ;  Mrs.  Mil- 
ray  is  not  he'a ;  they  ah'  divo'ced.  Miss  Milray  used 
to  be  very  nice  to  me  in  Florence.  She  isn't  going 
back  there  any  moa.  She  says  you  can't  go  back  to 
anything.  Do  you  think  we  can  ?  " 

She  had  left  moments  between  her  incoherent  sen 
tences  where  he  might  interrupt  her  if  he  would,  but 
he  waited  for  her  question.  "  I  hoped  we  might ;  but 
perhaps  " — 

"  No,  no.  We  couldn't.  We  couldn't  go  back  to 
that  night  when  you  threw  the  slippas  into  the  riva, 
no'  to  that  time  in  Florence  when  we  gave  up,  no'  to 


RAGGED    LADY.  355 

that  day  in  Venice  when  I  had  to  tell  you  that  I  ca'ed 
moa  fo'  some  one  else.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  he  said,  in  quick  revulsion  from  the 
hope  he  had  expressed.  "  The  past  is  full  of  the  pain 
and  shame  of  my  errors  !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  back  to  what's  past,  eitha," 
she  reasoned,  without  gainsaying  him. 

She  stopped  again,  as  if  that  were  all,  and  he  asked, 
"  Then  is  that  my  answer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  that  even  in  the  otha  wo'ld  we 
shall  want  to  go  back  to  the  past,  much,  do  you  ? " 
she  pursued,  thoughtfully. 

Once  Gregory  would  have  answered  confidently ;  he 
even  now  checked  an  impulse  to  do  so.  "  I  don't 
know,"  he  owned,  meekly. 

"  I  do  like  you,  Mr.  Gregory !  "  she  relented,  as  if 
touched  by  his  meekness,  to  the  confession.  "  You 
know  I  do — moa  than  I  ever  expected  to  like  any 
body  again.  But  it's  not  because  I  used  to  like  you, 
or  because  I  think  you  always  acted  nicely.  I  think 
it  was  cruel  of  you,  if  you  ca'ed  for  me,  to  let  me  be 
lieve  you  didn't,  afta  that  fust  time.  I  can't  eva  think 
it  wasn't,  no  matta  why  you  did  it." 

"  It  was  atrocious.     I  can  see  that  now." 

"  I  say  it,  because  I  shouldn't  eva  wish  to  say  it 
again.  I  know  that  all  the  time  you  we'e  betta  than 
what  you  did,  and  I  blame  myself  a  good  deal  moa 
fo'  not  knowing  when  you  came  to  Florence  that  I 
had  begun  to  ca'e  fo' — some  one  else.  But  I  did  wait 
till  I  could  see  you  again,  so  as  to  be  su'a  which  I 
ca'ed  for  the  most.  I  tried  to  be  fai'a,  before  I  told 


356  BAGGED    LADY. 

you  that  I  wanted  to  be  free.  That  is  all,"  she  said, 
gently,  and  Gregory  perceived  that  the  word  was  left 
definitely  to  him. 

He  could  not  take  it  till  he  had  disciplined  himself 
to  accept  unmurmuringly  his  sentence  as  he  under 
stood  it.  "  At  any  rate,"  he  began,  "  I  can  thank 
you  for  rating  my  motive  above  my  conduct." 

"  Oh,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  think  either  of  us  acted 
very  well.  I  didn't  know  till  aftawa'ds  that  I  was 
glad  to  have  you  give  up,  the  way  you  did  in  Flor 
ence.  I  was — bewild'ed.  But  I  ought  to  have  known, 
and  I  want  you  to  undastand  everything,  now.  I 
dorft  ca'e  for  you  because  I  used  to  when  I  was  almost 
a  child,  and  I  shouldn't  want  you  to  ca'e  for  me  eitha, 
because  you  did  then.  That's  why  I  wish  you  had 
neva  felt  that  you  had  always  ca'ed  fo'  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Gregory.  He  let  fall  his  head  in  des 
pair. 

"  That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Clementina.  "  If  we 
ah'  going  to  begin  togetha,  now,  it's  got  to  be  as  if 
we  had  neva  begun  before.  And  you  mustn't  think, 
or  say,  or  look  as  if  the'e  had  been  anything  in  oua 
lives  but  ouaselves.  Will  you  ?  Do  you  promise  ?  " 
She  stopped,  and  put  her  hand  on  his  breast,  and 
pushed  against  it  with  a  nervous  vehemence. 

"  No  !  "  he  said.  "  I  don't  promise,  for  I  couldn't 
keep  my  promise.  What  you  ask  is  impossible.  The 
past  is  part  of  us ;  it  can't  be  ignored  any  more  than 
it  can  be  destroyed.  If  we  take  each  other,  it  must 
be  for  all  that  we  have  been  as  well  as  all  that  we  are. 
If  we  haven't  the  courage  for  that  we  must  part." 


RAGGED    LADY.  357 

He  dropped  the  little  one's  hand  which  he  had  been 
holding,  and  moved  a  few  steps  aside.  "  Don't !  " 
she  said.  "They'll  think  I've  made  you,"  and  he 
took  the  child's  hand  again. 

They  had  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the  woods, 
and  come  in  sight  of  her  father's  house.  Claxon  was 
standing  coatless  before  the  door  in  full  enjoyment  of 
the  late  afternoon  air ;  his  wife  beside  him,  at  sight  of 
Gregory,  quelled  a  natural  impulse  to  run  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  from  the  presence  of  strangers. 
.  "  I  wonda  what  they'a  say  in',"  she  fretted. 

"  It  looks  some  as  if  she  was  say  in'  yes,"  said 
Claxon,  with  an  impersonal  enjoyment  of  his  conject 
ure.  "  I  guess  she  saw  he  was  bound  not  to  take  no 
for  an  answa." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  should  like  it  very  much,"  his 
wife  relucted.  "  Clem's  doin'  very  well,  as  it  is.  She 
no  need  to  marry  again." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it  a'n't  that  altogetha.  He's  a  good 
man."  Claxon  mused  a  moment  upon  the  figures 
which  had  begun  to  advance  again,  with  the  little  one 
between  them,  and  then  gave  way  in  a  burst  of  pater 
nal  pride,  "  And  I  don't  know  as  I  should  blame  him 
so  very  much  for  wantin'  Clem.  She  always  did  want 
to  be  of  moa  use —  But  I  guess  she  likes  him  too." 


THE    END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
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